#and the few times i went to physical therapy it barely did anything for me

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 18 - All For You

Guys, I fear this one may be worse than the last angsty one I wrote. Am I getting better or worse? – I have no clue…I’m just in a super angsty mood rn 

Also, I know that it “Born to Break Records” I said that Max didn’t know about reader’s godfather passing. What I meant to say was that he didn’t know at the time when he gave reader the trophy after she won her debut f2 race. But, because reader has a special helmet for Imola since Lorenzo was Italian, she’d have to tell him about the helmet. 

TW: EMOTIONAL ABUSE, HARSH LANGUAGE, SHITTY PARENTS, AND PHYSICAL ABUSE

I am prepared for the therapy bills…

How does someone write “and they swapped spit” in a romantic way?? Asking for a friend 

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated! 

TAG LIST IS CLOSED 

It couldn’t be them. 

You blinked and stared in the direction that you had been previously looking. Your eyes narrowed as you gazed at the small crack of the garage and where the gate was. You quickly placed your special helmet down on a table and dodged mechanics as you stepped out. Mitch barely glanced at your leaving as you often went to visit other drivers before the race if you had time. And today, the parade was a bit earlier, so most of the drivers used this time to destress a bit more than usual. 

As you got closer, two familiar people stood out to you. Right now, they were arguing with one of the Red Bull security guards. Your face grimaced as you could hear the shouting multiple feet away. 

As you got closer, your blood ran colder. You knew it was a bad idea to come out here, but it was like a moth to a flame or even a lamb to a slaughter. You couldn’t stop your feet until you were just a few steps away. 

“Mom? Dad?” 

The group of three’s heads swerved toward yours. The security guard, who you recognized to be Frederik, looked at you with a questioning face. The other two looked relieved but also angry at you. 

Your father rolled his eyes and pointed toward you before yelling at Fred. “See, I told you that we were her parents, now let us in,” he demanded. 

Your heart dropped a bit at the statement. You were never one to stand up to your father, especially when he was already angry. 

Your hear barely nodded, almost as if you were trying to even convince yourself that you were fine with them invading your life. 

Fred looked over with concern. 

“It’s ok Fred.” 

“Are you sure kid?” 

Your mother huffed. “She said it was fine. Now let us through.” 

Fred sure took his sweet time to unlock the gate, something that you could find some thankfulness for. 

Your mother came close to you first and wrapped you in an awkward hug: one that you did not return as it was too quick to reciprocate. Your father just stood there, with the same disappointing stare he always had. 

You put your hands to the side. “What are you two doing here? Last I knew is that you wanted nothing to do with me.” 

Your father rolled his eyes and your mother let out a squawk. “Is that what you’ve been telling your friends? Goodness gracious child, going around speaking lies.” 

You winced at her demeaning tone. 

Your father spoke next. “You make it into Formula 1 and forget everything that we did for you? How fucking pathetic.” He all but spit out the last word.

“Kid!” 

Your head whipped around at lightning speed. Mitch was waving at you from the garage, a curious look on your face.

You tried to give her a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your face. “Coming!” You turned toward your parents. “You can follow me, but please do not touch anything and just stand in the corner.” 

That earned another round of scoffs and groans. 

“Someone has gotten bratty I see,” you mother seethed. 

You paid no attention and walked back to the garage. You only knew that they followed you because you had memorized their footprints long ago when you were too scared to even get out of your room on multiple occasions. There was a difference between their normal strides, angry strides, and sneaky strides that they used when they tried to “catch” you doing something you shouldn’t have been doing – like getting an extra snack because they “forgot” to make you dinner. 

You had hoped that Max, Christian, Vito, or even Mitch would be right there when you walked in, but the universe definitely hated you today. The said four were standing in a little circle, probably going over some last minute data. You had stopped in the entrance and watched them, scared that they would ask questions.

While you were watching, a rough shove was directed toward your back, sending you to the floor and making a noise. Your knees were definitely bruised now and your hands were scraped on the concrete. Max, Christian, Mitch, and Vito all turned toward the noise. You had just gotten back up and continued walking, parents behind you. 

Some of the engineers had watched your father push you and were starting to question as to who he thought he was, pushing you around like that. 

“Oops, didn’t see you there,” your father said. 

Vito’s back straightened in defense when his eyes looked at your parents. You shot him a sorry look as he made eye contact with you. 

“Ah there you are kid. We were just going over some last minute notes. Who might this be?” Christian asked, walking toward you. Right now, he was thinking that they might be some older couple that you might have known from your childhood. 

Boy, was he wrong. 

Your eyes glanced back at your parents and sent Christian a look, trying to communicate to him that you really didn’t want these two in the garage. 

“Uh, Christian, these are my parents.” Your hands lightly raised in the air, as if to show them off. 

Christian’s eyes darkened as he looked at the couple. Max behind him was mentally killing them both. Mitch was just wondering about how she could get you out of this uncomfortable situation. 

“Y/n didn’t tell me that we’d be having personal guests today,” Christian said, folding his arms in a defensive pose. 

You prayed that your father wouldn’t roll his eyes at your boss. 

Your father only stared at the slightly taller Brit before looking at you, annoyance evident on his face. Your mother, once again, scoffed. 

“Wow,” your mother let off a very fake giggle, “our own daughter didn’t tell you that we were coming? Shows you how much appreciation kids have these days.” Another fake laugh followed. 

Max winced at the sight of your crest-fallen face. You looked absolutely miserable. 

“Hmmm, doesn’t sound like our kid.” Christian tried to back you up. 

Your mother had walked over to where you special Imola helmet was laying. She picked it up and twirled it around. 

It was a beautiful piece of work. The colors of the Italian flag blended beautifully. On the side you had Lorenzo’s crest with his birthdate and death-date underneath as a tribute to him. You watched as her lip curled in disgust. But, you also saw as one of the mechanics came up and took it directly from her, telling her that no one but you or authorized personelle should be touching it. 

Christian spoke up again, “Well, we are very busy right now and I need to speak to my drivers.”

But before Christian could get you away, Max stepped forward, a false smile on his lips and a hand stretched out. 

“Max Verstappen, three time World Champion.’ 

You knew this shpeel very well. Max only said the whole title when he was over someone’s bullshit, or he knew that they were just using him for his fame. 

Your father had some type of dumbstruck look as he took Max’s hand. The fuming Dutchman used this opportunity to tightly squeeze his hand, tighter than a normal handshake should have been. It made him happy to see your father wince at the grip. 

Your father’s hand then came and rested on your shoulder. You tensed as his grip got much harder and harder, probably leaving yet another bruise. “My daughter has a lot to accomplish if you’re her teammate. Good thing she doesn’t have the talent to outshine you.” 

You hated it when your father belittled you. He had done this multiple times in front of old friends. He was a manipulator and a narcissist. Your breath, that had been a bunch of harsh inhales and exhales, started to hitch. Clear signs of a panic attack were just around the corner. And your team could tell that you were about to possibly have a meltdown if you didn’t get out now. 

Mitch finally spoke up. “We have a race in just under 30 minutes and I need to privately go over something with my drivers. Max and Y/n, please follow me. Christian, I need you as well and Vito you know what to do, we’ll be in the main driver’s room (Max’s driver room).” 

Your manager gave your parents one last glare before rushing out of the Red Bull garage. 

Mitch was totally bullshitting them because it was actually closer to 45 full minutes rather than less than 30. 

Max held your shoulders, much lighter than your father had. He noticed your breathing had started to pick up. He sent a worried glance at the Team Principal who was currently clearing the way. 

To you, it felt like your head was underwater. Everything was blurry as you looked at the world through tears, and your head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton. Your skin felt tingly and it pricked where Max’s hands were now gently holding your elbows as he guided you to the room. You could barely hear them trying to get you to calm down. 

Once in the room, you had sunk to the floor and wrapped your arms around yourself, as a means of protection. Hands waved in front of your face, trying to get your attention as you stared numbly forward. Each wave shook a flinch out of your body. 

A sudden inhale brought on ugly sobs as you tried to breath out apologies for things you didn’t know. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. Please, please don’t hurt…me.” 

Your speech was broken, along with the hearts of Max, Mitch, and Christian who watched their strong girl break down because of someone who should have loved you. Quick knocks on the door alerted the room of someone else. 

You suddenly froze, not breathing, as you were thinking that your parents were about to invade yet another safe space. Yet, your vision was filled with red and familiar cologne. 

Your body acted on autopilot as your arms wrapped around the familiar figure of your boyfriend. 

His voice was still fuzzy as he started to rock you back and forth. 

Arthur looked around at the pained faces of your teammate, race engineer, manager, and team principal as they all looked down at you. 

Christian kneeled down next to the younger Monegasque. “Is there anything we can do?” 

He thought for a moment. You were curled sideways in his lap. Your legs were scrunched in fetal position, arms wrapped around his bicep as you clung to him. Your head rested against his chest with your eyes still closed. 

“Her blood sugar gets low after an attack, can someone find some juice?” Vito and Christian all but bolted out the door. 

“Mitch can you turn off the light? And Max, please rub her back. I’d do it, but her arms are wrapped around mine.” 

The lights suddenly dimmed behind your eyelids and a hand gently touched your bad, trying to see if you’d flinch. When your back didn’t tense, Max continued to apply gentle pressure and his hand moved in small circles. 

A big sigh escaped your lips as you came down from your sobs. Your lungs burned with each ragged breath, but they were thankful for new oxygen. 

Your eyes remained closed as you took a minute to get your bearings in order. You tried to count down in your head starting from 100, which normally helped you calm down faster. You finally cracked your eyes open and sat up a bit straighter. The hand that was soothing on your back lifted away. A whine almost escaped your lips, but you reeled it in. 

Arthur took notice of your open eyes and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “How are you doing? You were out of it for a while. Much longer than usual.” 

You hummed. “I’m ok. A bit…” 

“Thirsty?” The voice of your manager sounded as he walked in with multiple juice boxes in his arms, Christian behind him with even more juice boxes, and a certain Monegasque driver carried a variety of snacks in his arms. 

Your eyes widened with excitement as your hand reached up to grab an apple juice from Vito. Arthur quickly took it from you and pressed the straw in and held it to your lips. 

“Small sips,” he reminded you. You wanted to roll your eyes, but you knew he was right. 

After a couple of sips, you asked, “How long was it this time.” 

Your legs finally stretched out from their crunched position. 

“Almost twenty minutes,” Mitch told you, handing you an icepack to put on your head. She guessed that you may be prone to migraines after panic attacks and got you one just in case. Mitch was glad to see you take it and put it on your head immediately. 

The room was silent for a moment, before Max spoke. 

“Kid, what were they doing here?” 

You sighed. “I thought I saw them and I went to go check it out. Turns out it was them, and I really can’t speak up against my dad when he’s angry.” 

Arthur concluded, “So he bullied you into getting what he wanted?”

You winced at the word, but nodded just the same. 

Christian spoke up. “I couldn’t get them kicked out of the grand prix since they had tickets, but they aren’t going to be in the garage. Do you feel all right to race today?” 

“You don’t have to kid if you aren’t feeling well,” Mitch also added on. 

You shook your head. “No, I want to race.” 

The room knew what this weekend meant for you. When you had happily shown them your new helmet, their eyes had welled with tears as you talked about the man who loved you more than life itself. 

Max, who hadn’t known until Wednesday, had given you the biggest hug when it was a good moment. You didn’t know who was comforting who at that moment, but the hug would go down in your list of top 5 hugs ever. 

Arthur sensed that you wanted to stand by the way you were wiggling. He slowly helped you to his feet as he pressed another juice box into your hands. Charles quickly opened a bag of Cheetos as you stared at the orange bag. 

“I ran to Logan,” he simply stated. He knew that the American was the one who always had your favorite snacks on hand. One, because it was a big American brand, and two, the blond had a soft spot for you and always kept them stocked. 

You took the orange twist and happily munched on the snack. The digital clock on Max’s desk showed that there was about 10 minutes left until you needed to get into the car. You quickly finished the small bag and chugged the rest of the juice. 

Christian had to step out and start heading to the pit wall. Mitch followed the older Brit so that she could get to her spot inside the garage. Max and Charles left because Max needed to go over some things with GP, while Charles had to run back to Ferrari to get into his own car. 

Vito stayed behind to check on you for just a few more moments. He knew first-hand how scared your dad and mom made you feel.

Then it was just you and Arthur for a couple of minutes. Your forehead pressed against his. 

“Thank you, for coming to help.” 

Arthur chuckled. “You really need to stop scaring me. No flipping today, ok?” 

You nodded before he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips this time. He tried his best not to smile into the kiss, but he couldn’t help it. 

You gently punched his chest. “Thur, you do that every single time.” 

Arthur brought you back closer. “It’s just because you make me so happy chéri.”  

You gave him another peck, before you led him out of the room. He helped you put your helmet on, and did his ritual “forehead kiss” to the top of it. With your handshake also done, you climbed into your car. The mechanics who had seen you with your parents made sure that you were all right. They were met with a bright smile and a thumbs up from you.

For this race, you qualified rather high. Max had pouted because today had been a Ferrari front-row lock out. You had to remind him that he had beaten Charles before from starting father back. It seemed to pacify the Dutchman. 

Starting Grid 

Charles Leclerc  

Carlos Sainz 

Max Verstappen 

Lando Norris 

Y/n L/n 

George Russell 

Lewis Hamilton 

Daniel Ricciardo 

Logan Sargeant 

Alex Albon 

Oscar Piastri 

Lance Stroll 

Fernando Alonso 

Yuki Tsunoda 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Pierre Gasly 

Esteban Ocon 

Valtteri Bottas 

Zhou Guanyu 

Kevin Magnussen 

To say this would be one of your worst races (and you'd DNF-ed before), would be an understatement. Your migraine had come back and your water was completely out by the last quarter of the race. You hadn’t been able to keep Charles off for long for Max to catch up, which made Charles take the lead in the second half. 

Max had also been confused as you had dropped behind him as well when you should have been your strongest. 

You loved racing, but today you hated it. Your brain felt as though it was pounding with a sledge hammer against your skull. 

“For the first time in almost two years, Charles Leclerc has grabbed a victory. Charles Leclerc is the winner of the 2024 Imola Grand Prix. Max Verstappen clinches second with his rookie teammate Y/n L/n right behind him to make it a 2-3 for Red Bull. They are followed by Lando Norris and Lewis Hamilton…” 

Race Results 

Charles Leclerc – 25 points 

Max Verstappen – 18 points 

Y/n L/n – 15 points 

Lando Norris – 12 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 11 points 

Oscar Piastri – 8 points 

Alex Albon – 6 points 

George Russell – 4 points 

Logan Sargeant – 2 points 

Carlos Sainz – 1 point 

Fernando Alonso 

Yuki Tsunoda 

Pierre Gasly 

Kevin Magnussen 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Zhou Guanyu 

Valtteri Bottas 

Esteban Ocon 

Lance Stroll 

Daniel Ricciardo 

Standings After Imola 

Max Verstappen – 168 points 

Charles Leclerc – 120 points 

Y/n L/n – 80 points 

Lando Norris – 73 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 60 points 

Oscar Piastri – 53 points 

George Russell – 35 points

Carlos Sainz – 34 points  

Alex Albon – 26 points 

Fernando Alonso – 23 points 

Daniel Ricciardo – 21 points 

Logan Sargeant – 19 points 

Lance Stroll

Pierre Galsy 

Yuki Tsunoda

Zhou Guanyu 

Kevin Magnussen 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Valtteri Bottas 

Esteban Ocon 

Constructors Standings 

Red Bull – 248 points 

Ferrari – 153 points 

McLaren – 126 points 

Mercedes – 95 points 

Williams – 45 points 

Aston Martin – 23 points 

Racing Bulls – 21 points 

Alpha Romeo 

Haas

Alpine 

When you pulled into Parc Ferme, you barely had the strength to get out of the car. You only found out that you needed to get out was when Max lightly tapped your helmet and held out a hand. You gratefully grabbed it and Max hauled you out. 

“Are you ok?” he asked, with concern storming in his blue eyes. A nod of your head pacified him for now. 

Your headache only got worse when you spotted your parents standing at the wall. You tried to send the team apologetic looks when you walked right past them, something you never did even if you didn’t even podium for a race. You always ran to their open arms. 

You’d send them lots of coffee and gifts for their families to make up for it. 

You kept your helmet on for as long as you could. It helped to damper all the loud noise of the paddock. 

Max and Charles both recognized that you wanted little to no noise if possible, so they kept quiet or spoke in soft whispers if they did speak. You immediately sat down in a corner, trying to cool off and will your migraine away. 

You only opened your eyes once again when you were called to the podium. You were thankful that you didn’t feel any panic as you walked out and stood on the lowest step. You watched as Max walked out and stood on the second place step before watching Charles almost skip to the top step. You giggled as you watched the Ferrari driver subtly stick his tongue out at Max. For a moment, you were scared at the repercussions but Max only smiled and rolled his eyes.  

You took off your cap for the Monegasque anthem along with the Italian one. When you were handed your trophy, you gently kissed it (even though it didn’t light up) and held it to the sky while also pointing. The two older drivers watched as you looked so happy. Deep down, they wanted you to be on the top step, but your time was coming. 

Max was then handed his trophy. His lips were a bit tight, but he’d get over it. 

Charles was quite the opposite. You guessed that he was finally happy that his dry spell was over. A sixth career win and first in almost two years. You clapped as the red-clad driver held his trophy proudly. 

Your head was still pounding, but the migraine was slowly going away. You didn’t have much strength to do your usual champagne cannon, but you still sprayed Charles as much as you could. When there wasn’t anything else to spray, you poured the rest on your teammate. 

You had a giant smile on your face as you looked down at the crowd. Yet, it slowly disappeared as your eyes found your parents, looking up at you with distain clearly written on their faces. You turned to Max, who was already looking down as well. 

He pointed down, though, right next to them where Christian and Geri were both standing, proud smiles on their faces as they looked up at you. 

Geri was trying to communicate for you and Max to stand closer and to smile for her camera. You quickly put your hand around his waist to bring him in closer. With trophies raised and bright smiles, she held a thumbs up when she took the picture. Christian just continued to look at the two of you as though you had just won him every single race possible. 

You were then assured off the podium and back to the garage. 

“I promise, I’ll find you after. You know how much I hate wearing my clothes after they get sticky,” you told Max as you walked toward your drivers room. 

You had barely just gotten you shirt on when your door opened and closed. 

Your rolled your eyes. “You couldn’t have just waited?” 

You turned, expecting either Max or your boyfriend. Yet, you were met with a slap across the face. Your cheek stung as you shakily raised a hand to touch it. A hiss left your lips when your fingers glazed your reddening cheek.

You barely had time to get try to get away, before another hand hit the side of your head, making your migraine slowly creep up again. 

This time, a sob slipped through your lips as you looked at your parents, who were fuming.

“What did I do?” you tried to get out, voice cracking. 

“After everything we did for you, you can only get a shitty third place?” your mother spit. 

“Seriously, how fucking pathetic do you have to be. Offering up the trophy to someone who is dead?” your father questioned. 

It was your turn to suddenly seethe. You pointed a finger at your dad. “He loved me. He taught me everything I know.” You knew you were pressing his buttons, and you were about to press the big red one that says Do Not Press. “He was the man that you’d never be.” 

Another hit to the face had your head swinging. You knew that there would be a big bruise in the morning. But you were proud for finally standing up to him. 

Your mother’s hand hit the other side of your face, sending you staggering back to your dad. You braced yourself for another hit, but it didn’t come. Your eyes opened and widened at the sight of your teammate with murder in his eyes. 

Christian was behind him, on the phone, with your manager to the right, boyfriend and his brother on the left.

“You touch her one more time and you’re fucking dead,” Max spoke, scarily calm. Your father jerked to hit him, and that was game over.  

Security came quickly after Max had some more colorful words and quite possibly a hit to his face so that your father’s matched yours. 

Arthur had come to wrap his arms around you, as a protective barrier. 

As you watched your mother and father be led out by cuffs, the news coming that they had been banned for life from any Formula 1 activity, and that Vito had now gotten you a restraining order (something he said that he should have done years ago just in case) – you knew that you had finally found the family that you had always wanted. 

The family that you had always needed.   

And you’d keep racing and winning, because 4 years ago, you made a promise. 

To keep going and to keep fighting. 

As you walked out of the garage, with a third place trophy and your helmet, you gently pressed your own kiss to the top of it. 

“You’d be proud of me,” you whispered, “and it’s all for you. Because you were everything that I needed.” 

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 Imola was an experience. Glad I could podium in my late godfather's country to make him proud. I wish he could have been standing there to watch me today, but I have three other men who are enough for me. To Christian, Max, and Vito - I love you three, thanks for always watching my back. Oh, and my boyfriend is pretty great too, he's just shy. Thank you for an amazing experience, I'll be back next year to win (Charlie move over)

tagged: christianhorner, maxverstappen1, and vito_official

liked by christianhorner, maxverstappen1, vito_official, and 94,294 others

y/n_nation I'm not sobbing, you're sobbing

kid_y/n geri and christian both smiling like proud parents killed me

maxverstappen1 why would you do this?

y/n.89 ?? charles_leclerc he's crying right now y/n.89 oh, sorry not sorry?? maxverstappen1 you will be

christianhorner I know I can't speak for him, but he'd be so proud of you kid

gerihalliwellhorner we love you sweetie! can't wait for the next family dinner! maxverstappen1 family dinner? sebastianvettel you didn't get the invite?? y/n.89 oh no christianhorner uhhhhhh charles_leclerc he's crying again

mad_max the way that in every picture, they're looking at y/n

y/n_updates aahhhh the boyfriend has been mentioned!!!

y/n.89 I can't believe we're going to the track that THEE lightning mcqueen drove on

arthur_leclerc you mean...the Monaco Grand Prix....where you live...my hometown...Charles's home race... liamlawson she said what she said - lightning mcqueen's race charles_leclerc I'm done y/n.89 LIGHTNING MCQUEEN RESPONDED TO ME???? LIAM LOOK AT THIS liamlawson I'M LOOKING charles_leclerc goodbye y/n.89 DON'T GO

f1 see you all in Monaco!

author can everyone forgive me now?

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[cuubism]

Physical Therapy, Part 8

--

A few days later, Hob goes to Dream’s old flat. He wanted to go immediately, but he needed time to calm himself. If he went to confront Dream’s ex immediately, he’d be too likely to do something inadvisable out of anger.

Truthfully, he’s still so angry.

He can control himself, though. So he knocks on the door, instead of taking it off its hinges.

Dream’s ex-boyfriend opens the door with an annoyed look on his face. But jumps back, startled, at the sight of Hob. He recognizes Hob, then. Good.

“I’m here for Dream’s things,” he says. No need to prolong this with pleasantries.

“His things?” says the ex, with disdain, like Dream’s possessions mean nothing to him. “Why? He’ll come back anyway. Eventually.”

“No, he won’t.”

Ex-boyfriend leans against the door frame, smirking. Maybe Hob should have just punched him. “You going to stop him?”

Hob takes a deep, long breath. No. He actually wouldn’t try to stop him. He’s not going to force Dream to do anything. He’d try to convince him otherwise, though. And if he can be a good enough boyfriend, then maybe Dream will never feel the need to go back to some horrible place, looking for love.

“I don’t try to make people stay in my house,” he snaps. “His things. Now. You think I won’t punch you again?”

So much for being calm.

For the first time, that smirking look slips. “It’s all worthless anyway,” he says.

Hob grits his teeth. The stupidest thing is, even for someone who doesn’t care about Dream himself, Dream’s art is objectively not worthless. Hob had looked it up once. Dream’s paintings sell for thousands of pounds. Sometimes tens of thousands. It’s not just Dream’s passion that he’s so jealous and disparaging about, but his livelihood, his basic ability to support himself.

“Are you going to let me take it?” he says. “Or are we going to have a problem?”

Ex-boyfriend looks annoyed—and uncomfortable?—but finally just gestures Hob in. “Fine. Whatever.”

Inside, the flat is… kind of cold. It’s not homey. He can’t imagine Dream living here; he can barely imagine Dream living in his own flat, which is likewise utterly empty of decoration. But there are spots on the wall, here, that are empty in a more conspicuous way. Like Dream’s art might once have hung there.

Hob doesn’t know the entirety of what he’s looking for, but he thinks he’ll be able to identify most of Dream’s things by sight. And indeed—with Dream’s ex trailing him like an irritable ghost—he finds some of what must be Dream’s clothes in the closet, and Dream’s sketchbooks and books and paperwork all stacked in boxes. Like they’d been on their way out.

So much for “he’s definitely coming back.”

Dream’s ex doesn’t stop him as he packs stuff up and gathers it by the door. But as Hob looks at what he’s managed to collect, there’s obviously something missing. Pieces that were still drying and pieces that were too large to carry, Dream had said, when speaking of what he'd left behind.

“Where’s the rest of his art?”

Now ex-boyfriend does look uncomfortable. A sinking feeling settles in Hob’s stomach. “Why would I keep that shit, anyway? I told you, it’s worthless."

“It’s not worthless,” Hob snaps, but this time his voice breaks. He scrubs a hand through his hair. Looks at the empty spaces on the wall.

He tries to imagine what happened. Did he just toss it all? Coldly? Methodically? No, Hob doesn’t think so. If he had he would have just gotten rid of the rest of Dream’s stuff, too.

What he can imagine is a fit of rage, with his real target, Dream, having fled, and only the supposed distraction, his life’s work, left behind.

Dream's ex-boyfriend is watching him warily. He seems nervous about what Hob might do, like Hob is an unpredictable animal. Good. Maybe he'll understand how Dream's felt. “You got what you came for,” he says. “Just go.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to decide if I'm going to kill you first.”

Dream’s ex takes a startled step back. And Hob really, really wants to just fucking bash this guy’s head in. But he has to restrain himself. Not just because he doesn’t want to get arrested for assault, though that’s also better avoided.

No. It’s really that he doesn’t want to be another violent man in Dream’s life.

As satisfying as it was to throw that first punch in Dream’s defense, making it physical now would be a different matter. If he shows that he’s capable of resorting to real violence to get what he wants, or to punish someone for something, Dream is always going to have that in the back of his head when he looks at him. There will always be a tiny corner of his brain harboring the fear that that impulse could turn on him.

He’s already kind of pushing boundaries by being here at all, and only getting away with it because Dream didn’t actually tell him not to go, just that he himself didn’t want to. God his blood is heated and this asshole definitely deserves to be taught a lesson but it’s not worth putting a crack in Dream’s trust in him.

“You’re lucky I care more about what he thinks of me,” he finally says. Then he gathers all of Dream’s stuff, and makes himself leave. Dream’s ex, wisely, doesn’t say anything else as he goes.

—

Dream is in the middle of trying to paint when Hob arrives. Or rather, in the middle of staring at a canvas, wishing he could paint. He’d bought a large canvas in the hopes that he might try to do something in his old style, something more detailed and precise. But he’s been too intimidated by the prospect to even begin mixing colors.

He keeps finding himself staring at all the empty space in his flat, at walls that should be hung with art. But he doesn’t have any of his large pieces left. They were all sold prior to… the incident… or left behind. He only has the smaller ones that were in his portfolio.

He’s been finding himself regretting selling those pieces. He had never been bothered by it before, but now he wants to track down the buyers and beg for them back. But he won't. Some of those paintings had sold for tidy sums, which is the reason he can afford this flat despite not having a steady job. And he has no guarantee of being able to sell something at that rate again.

He at least has photographs of everything he’s ever sold. The same can’t be said of what he’d kept for himself, or left unfinished.

He startles at the knock on the door, but remembers: Hob said he would come over today.

He still hasn’t been able to shake the need to block the door whenever he’s home, so he has to shove aside a bookcase before he can let Hob in. When he opens the door, Hob is carrying a box, and wearing a pained smile. “Here,” he says, giving it to Dream. “I have more in the car.”

He disappears back down the stairs before Dream can question him, and Dream sets the heavy box down on the kitchen island.

It’s full of his sketchbooks.

For several moments he just stares at them, not daring to touch. How did Hob— did he go to Dream’s flat?

Hob comes back with another two boxes, precariously balanced, while Dream is still staring at the first one. These, it seems, are full of documents, and personal effects, and some of his favorite books.

“How—?” he tries to ask, nearly struck dumb.

“I went to your house,” Hob says. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have. But you deserve to have your things.”

At first, he is only shocked to think that someone would go to such lengths for him. Then, Dream feels a surge of hope. Perhaps—

But. No. Of all things, Hob would have known to grab his artwork. He would have lead with that.

“…Oh,” Dream says quietly, looking down.

“Yeah,” Hob says, face falling. “I’m so sorry, Dream, that’s all that was there— I mean I still have some of your clothes in the car, but—”

“I love you,” Dream says, tearing up. Hob actually went back. To get his things. Even when Dream said it wasn’t worth doing.

When he looks up again, Hob looks stunned. And only then does Dream realize what he’s said. He swallows nervously, but he doesn’t want to take it back. It doesn’t matter if he truly meant that he’s in love with Hob. Because either way, he loves Hob. And no one has ever loved him like this, like it was easy. And without question.

“I—” Hob stammers. “I mean it’s really not—”

Dream takes his hands and squeezes them, and Hob stops talking. “It is,” Dream says. “It is a big deal. To me.”

“Well,” Hob finally manages, voice still tight. “I want you to be happy, Dream. You deserve that.”

It’s not a sentiment Dream is used to hearing directed towards him. But hearing it from Hob makes him feel like… maybe it can be. Maybe it should be.

Dream kisses him, still holding his hands. He feels himself smile into the kiss. Another thing he’s not used to doing, but it feels good.

Hob smiles too, as he cradles Dream’s face between his hands. And even though Hob wasn’t able to recover his art, even though his ex probably destroyed it—which is agonizing to think about—in this one moment, Dream is… happy.

It's so strange that it almost hurts. But he thinks he’s actually happy.

#we're in the final stretches of this fic #this fic that was supposed to be a oneshot XD #physical therapy fic #dreamling #my writing #cw abuse

[roosterforme]

The Deployment Diaries Part 21 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: For Bradley, time heals all wounds. Having the right partner seems to help as well.

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff and swearing

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots! Check my masterlist for the reading order!

Bradley was bored out of his mind. After a few days at home with him, you had to return to work. He knew you couldn't take several weeks off to spend with him while he healed, but he could barely go anywhere, and he wasn't allowed to work out. He even had to rely on you to take him to physical therapy after work. 

You were so cute when you watched him do his exercises with the physical therapist. You cheered him on from the row of folding chairs, and you learned all of the exercises to be able help him at home. You started to walk around the block with him and Tramp after dinner each night, only going a short distance until his ribs healed completely. And you made him meals and helped him shower.

When you went to work every day, he did everything he was supposed to do. He alternated heat and ice on his ribs. He kept his arm elevated. He drank plenty of water and took all of his medications. But he also binge watched Real Housewives of Beverly Hills like his life depended on it. 

As soon as you pulled out of the driveway, he got cozy on the couch next to Tramp with a snack and a cup of tea. "Time to start season three, buddy," Bradley said, patting the snoozing dog on the head. "Let's see what kind of shit Kyle and Lisa are getting up to today. We'll just watch one episode."

He couldn't look away from the drama. "I can't believe she said that! Wow, she's got a lot of nerve!" Bradley said, eating the lunch you left for him. After that he fell asleep on the couch, and you woke him when you got home. 

"Roo, it's time for physical therapy. Trashy TV hour is over," you told him with a smirk. Then Bradley proceeded to fill you in on the episodes while you drove.

But Bradley had been home for more than a week, and he still hadn't been medically cleared to fuck you or ask you to marry him. He kept trying to be helpful, but every time you caught him carrying anything that weighed more than ten pounds, you had a fit. 

"Put the laundry basket down, or I swear I will tie you up!" you yelled. 

Bradley grinned. "How about I put the laundry basket down right now if you promise to time me up?"

You stomped over to him and took the basket from his hands. "I should have known that threat wouldn't work. How about if you promise to be a good boy and follow the rules, I'll tie you up once your arm is fully healed?"

"I'll be so good," he quickly promised, giving you a kiss. "Maybe you could give me a little reward now?"

You set the laundry basket down on the kitchen island and guided him to sit on the couch. You stood between his legs and he looked up at you with so much love in his eyes. "You want me to warm you?"

Bradley nodded his head, and you immediately got undressed. He was already hard, but he was having a bit of a rough day with his rib pain. He knew you would be gentle though, and as you guided his underwear down his thighs and straddled his lap, he already felt a lot better.

"You just relax," you whispered as he tipped his head back against the couch. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his dick being squeezed by your silky warmth. He didn't move as you took his full length into your pussy with a little gasp. He just rubbed your thighs and let you kiss his rough looking face as you warmed his cock.

"That's better," you told him, caressing and kissing him for a long time, allowing him to calm his breathing until his ribs were almost pain free. "And now you'll be a good boy and not overexert yourself again, right?"

"Of course, Sweetheart."

--------------------------------------------

But it was harder than he could have imagined to go from constant activity and movement, to essentially nothing. And the reality TV binge only kept his attention while you were at work. He started thinking about how many workouts he was missing. It would take him forever to get back in shape after this. He was already losing his abs, which he would definitely consider his best feature. So he waited and tortured himself for a few more days until you drove him to see his doctor again. 

"You think you'll get any stitches removed today?" you asked him while you drove through the rain in his Bronco. San Diego traffic was always a fucking nightmare on the rare occasions when it stormed. 

"That would be nice," he answered, examining his left arm. "These things are itchy as hell now. But my first question for the doctor is whether or not I'm medically cleared to make love to my girlfriend yet."

You squeaked and bit your lip as you drove. "I hope the answer is yes," you whispered.

Bradley was planning on telling you the doctor said yes, even if they didn't. "The countless blowjobs have been a real treat, and as much as I love fingering you, I want you riding my dick like my life depends on it."

"Can't wait for that," you whispered, navigating through the rainy parking lot and stopping near the doors of the medical building. "I'll meet you inside, Roo." 

Bradley kissed you before climbing out of the Bronco and heading in. He sat still while the doctor removed the stitches from some of his lacerations that weren't as deep as the others. His skin was scarred, rough and pink without the stitches, but it already felt so much better. 

The doctor poked around in his ribs and squeezed his arm, and Bradley knew he was healing because he didn't want to scream. He was told his bruising was getting much better as well.

And when he asked, "Listen, I'm feeling much better. So where do I stand on having sex and driving?"

The doctor laughed and cleared him for sex, as long as he was careful, but not driving. The combination of medications he was taking were still too much for another week or so. Bradley strode out to find you in the waiting room reading a magazine, and just the sight of you was enough to get him going. 

"Baby Girl, let's go," he said, and your eyes snapped up to meet his.

"What did they tell you?" you asked, walking hand in hand back out into the rainy evening. "Looks like you got some of the stitches removed," you said, tracing his scarred arm with your gentle fingers. He grunted in response as you popped open a huge umbrella and guided him toward the parked Bronco. But when you reached for the passenger door to help him get in, he shook his head and opened the back door instead. 

"Hop in there, Sweetheart. I'm allowed to get my world rocked by you."

You laughed and looked up at him underneath the umbrella. "Right here? A quickie in the parking lot?" you asked softly, but your smile let him know you wanted it too.

Bradley kissed you and hummed, "Mmhmm," before playfully swatting at your ass as you climbed up into the backseat. You turned back to help him hoist himself up as well, and Bradley said, "Maybe we don't have to be too quick. It's getting dark, and the rain makes it difficult to see inside."

But you didn't need any coaxing. You already had your shirt off when he pulled the door closed. Bradley unhooked your bra and let it fall to the seat next to him as you shimmied out of your shorts and underwear. And very gently, you unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and pulled them low enough to let his dick bounce free. 

You bit your lip and looked at him as he stroked your nipple and pulled you onto his lap. "You have to tell me if I'm hurting you at all," you said, and he promised he would. But your gentle fingers in his hair as you took him inch by inch inside your pussy had him moaning. It felt so good. 

"Just go slow, and I'll be fine," he groaned as you rocked back and forth, riding him while his mouth was all over your tits. Your back was arched, and Bradley wrapped his hands around your ribs to keep you in place, stroking the enticing skin below your breasts with his thumbs. "You're so fucking sexy," he told you, letting one hand trail down your soft belly until he reached your clit. 

Bradley watched, entranced, as you ground yourself against his hand and rode him with a repetitive snap of your hips that made your breasts bounce for him. Soon you were moaning his name and clamping around him, and he was getting close too. 

"Roo," you whined, grabbing him by the hair as you came. And then suddenly Bradley had slipped out of you as you knelt down on the floor in front of him. "The upholstery," you whispered, wrapping your lips around him with a hard suck before popping him out again. "Don't want to mess it up."

Then you sucked him off while he played with your hair and stroked your cheeks. "Love how you always protect the Bronco, Baby Girl."

-----------------------------------------

When you got home on Wednesday, Bradley was moping around the house. He barely said anything to you when you told him you were going to make him Marry Me Rooster for dinner.

"What's wrong?" you asked cautiously, but he just shook his head and clipped Tramp's leash on. "You should be wearing your sling if you're going out, Bradley," you reminded him, but he closed the door instead of responding to you. 

"Lovely," you muttered to yourself as you queued up one of your favorite playlists and started making dinner. But the further into the recipe you got, the angrier you became. 

How dare he storm out of the house like that, ignoring what you said about the sling. He hadn't said anything to you when you walked in. Hadn't given you a kiss. Nothing. 

"He doesn't even deserve this," you told nobody, gesturing wildly at the nearly completed dinner. You'd made a mess of the kitchen and now you'd have to clean it up. If he was going to act like a complete shit, you could have stayed at work longer, gotten more done. 

When everything was finished, and he still hadn't returned, you made him a plate of food, set it on the dining room table and glared at it. Then you went back into the kitchen and ate several forkfuls directly out of the pan before eating a twinkie and getting the bathtub ready for yourself. As the tub filled, you went to find his sling, and you left that on the dining room chair too. Then you stormed into the bathroom and climbed in the tub. 

When you heard the front door close, you leaned back against the tub and closed your eyes. Within seconds, Bradley was opening the bathroom door, and you did not want to talk to him. 

"Baby Girl?" he asked cautiously. 

"What?" you snapped, keeping your eyes closed. 

"I'm sorry."

You cracked one eye open. "What are you sorry about?" you asked, and when you opened your eyes, you saw he was wearing his sling. 

"You made me my favorite dinner, and I was frustrated and ignored you. I'm sorry."

"Will you just tell me what's wrong?" you asked, shifting in the tub. Bradley's eyes immediately dipped down to your chest and he licked his lips. You were annoyed by your immediate response to him looking at your breasts. You squeezed your thighs together to keep yourself from inviting him to kiss you. 

He ran his hands through his hair and knelt on the bath mat right in front of you. "I am so bored, and I can't drive anywhere, and the medication makes me exhausted. I'm sick of relying on you to do everything for me."

You opened your mouth to speak, but Bradley quickly kissed you and said, "You're perfect, and you're the best nurse I could ask for. But I just want to be able to get back to work. Feel fucking useful again."

And you lost all of the anger you felt earlier. "Roo," you whispered, running your wet fingers along his cheek. "If you rush things, you'll stop progressing. Then it could be even more time before you return to work."

"I know, I know. I'm just... I can barely cut up my own food!"

You kissed his lips softly and rubbed your nose along his mustache. "That's what I'm here for. I'm going to take care of you. I just hate that you ignored me when I got home."

He wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and kissed you hard. "I love my nurse. How can I get back in her good graces?"

You pouted at him. "You just have to be sweet again."

"I'll be very sweet," he promised. "Please make a fuss over me again.

You grinned at him and started to climb out of the tub. Bradley groaned as you reached for a towel and started to dry off. "Maybe you wouldn't mind being taken care of if I made it more fun for you?"

Bradley's eyes flashed. "What do you have in mind?" he whispered.

"Go eat your dinner, and I'll call you when I'm ready."

----------------------------------

Bradley sat down at the table and ate his dinner alone. He hadn't meant to be so awful to you. It was uncalled for. You were perfect. Literally nursing him back to health while working full-time and doing everything else you always did. You didn't need his bullshit. You deserved a fucking vacation. 

"Are you done eating?" you called from the bedroom. Bradley was trying to clean up the kitchen using one hand. 

"Yeah, Sweetheart."

"Your nurse is ready to see you now," you called in a flirty, singsong voice that had the little hairs on the back of Bradley's neck standing at attention. His hopeful cock throbbed a bit as he rushed into the bedroom. 

"Fuck," he gasped, struggling to keep from just pushing you down on the bed. You were wearing his plain white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The top three buttons were open, and he could tell you weren't wearing a bra. You had on sheer white socks that ended just above your knees, and you'd folded a piece of paper into a nurse's hat. 

"Hi, I'll be your nurse for this evening," you told him with a grin that let him know how much fun he was about to have. "But in order to tell what's wrong with you, I'm going to have to give you a thorough examination."

"Oh, please do," Bradley groaned as you walked across the room to get him. You were wearing your nude colored high heels, and when you reached him, he could see directly down the shirt. He was already dying to wrap your necklace around his fingers.

"Come here," you said sweetly, taking his hand in yours and leading him toward the bed. You carefully removed his sling for him. Then you turned your back to him and rubbed your ass all along the front of his jeans. "I'll just turn around like this while you get fully undressed for your exam."

Bradley sighed and removed his clothing as quickly as he could. You glanced at him over your shoulder. "When you're done, you can have a seat."

Bradley sat gingerly on the bed, and you turned toward him. You licked your lips when he spread his legs. His cock was hard and ready for you, but you rested both of your palms on his knees and kissed his lips softly. "Let me check your temperature," you whispered, running your palm gently across his forehead. "Uh oh, you feel a little warm to me."

Bradley grinned at the look of concern on your face. "That's terrible. Can you do anything to help me?"

You nodded solemnly. "You need ten kisses. And then I'll check you again."

Bradley moaned as you kissed him ten times, each kiss longer and than the last, each one with progressively more tongue. 

When you ran your fingers along his forehead again, you shook your head and sighed. "Still too warm. But I know what will help." Bradley watched you unbutton his white shirt, and then you wiggled your way up his leg until you were straddling his thigh. You took his hands and gently guided them until he was holding and caressing your breasts. Bradley squeezed your tits and watched you lick your lips, even gasping when he pinched your nipple. "Feeling better?" you moaned.

Bradley nodded as you wiggled and rubbed your pussy against his leg. "So much better," he confirmed. 

You tipped your head back, arching further into his hands, clearly enjoying yourself as well. "You know I would do anything to help my patients feel better," you whispered, sitting down on his thigh and running one finger along the length of his cock. "So why don't you lie back against the pillows, and I'll check every inch of your body."

Bradley bit his lip and nodded. "Whatever you think is best, nurse."

You helped him ease his sore body against the pillows. Bradley watched you straddle his hips, and then you slowly removed his white shirt. The sight of you in just your white socks and heels with the paper hat had his heart racing. He had the fleeting thought that his actual physicians would have never told him it was safe to have sex if they knew how hot you were in bed. Bradley felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest.  

Then you proceeded to kiss and touch him everywhere. You paid extra special attention to his left arm, nuzzling and kissing everywhere that wasn't stitched. Your soft hands were so gentle along his torso, that he was begging for more. You kitten licked all around his dick before sucking on his balls until he felt like he was going to cum all over your pretty face. 

"Still not sure what's wrong," you whispered, tapping the corner of your mouth with your index finger. Then you straddled his waist so gingerly, you caused him no pain as you ran your fingertips softly back up along his body. You rubbed your pussy gently along his abs while you placed the most loving kisses across his forehead. Somehow your body was all over his, but you were so delicate. You kissed his lips and every inch of his face and neck as Bradley's hands came up to your ass. He guided you to press yourself a little harder against him, rub your pussy a little rougher. Now you were both breathing deeper, and Bradley was loving how much you were teasing him.

"I figured out what's wrong," you whispered in his ear before licking him. Bradley just moaned as you rubbed your tits along his chin. He pulled one of your nipples into his mouth and teased you with his tongue before you whimpered. "You just need a good fuck."

Bradley released you with a pop and hissed as you turned the other way on his body so that your back was to him. He held onto your ankles as you slipped him into your wet pussy and rode him reverse cowgirl. The way your ass bounced each time you had him fully seated had him shaking his head.

"How am I doing nurse? Getting better?" he managed to grunt. You turned and grinned at him over your shoulder, riding him a little harder. Your paper hat slid off your head and landed on the floor, but you kept riding him faster. 

"You're getting there, but you'll need to smack my ass a little bit first." Bradley did as he was told, getting rough with his right palm, digging into your flesh with his fingers. Your moaning had him coming inside you, one hand holding your high heel, one gripping your ass cheek. Then he watched you clean him up, licking all of the mixed cum from his softening cock. 

"I really do feel so much better, nurse," he told you as he tucked his right arm behind his head. "Any chance I can make another appointment with you? Get you to make another housecall?"

You giggled where your chin rested on his thigh, ass up in the air behind you. "You're so sexy, I'm sure I could make room in my schedule for you. I could always bump another patient."

He pretended to scowl. "Wait, how many other patients are you treating?"

"Just you, so far. Apparently I just got my nursing license today," you replied with a laugh. 

"Just book me solid in your schedule. No additional patients for you, nurse Baby Girl."

-------------------------------------

On Friday, you rushed out of work and hurried home to start on dinner. You were going to attempt to make crab cakes and filet mignon for a special celebration, but you wanted to surprise Bradley with it. 

So when Nat dropped him at home after physical therapy, and the meal was mostly ready, you were able to distract him for a few minutes. 

"Hi," you whispered against his lips as he held you just inside the front door. "How was therapy?" You ran your hands along his healing body and sighed, loving that you could use your hands a bit more now.

"Good," he murmured, kissing you deeply and tickling you with his mustache. "You seem really happy to see me. Wanna take a detour to the laundry room?"

You giggled as he nipped at your lips. "Actually, I'm going to send you and Tramp on a little walk so I can finish making dinner."

"What are we having? It smells good." He backed you up against the wall and let his fingers meet the skin just above your yoga pants. 

"Crab cakes and filet mignon, mashed potatoes and veggies. And I made brownies the other day and hid them from you."

He eyed you cautiously. "Fancy dinner tonight?"

"Yeah... oh, shit. Do I have the date wrong? I thought today was your mom's birthday. July eighteenth?" He had only mentioned it to you once. 

Bradley's face turned into the most lovesick thing you'd ever seen. His brown eyes looked like puddles of melted chocolate, and his lips parted into a half smile that made your heart pound. 

"Yeah, it's today, Sweetheart. I can't believe you remembered. You made a fancy dinner for her birthday?"

"Yes," you replied, happy you hadn't mixed up the dates. You were hoping to get your hands on some of the stuff from Bradley's storage unit, hoping to learn more about and connect more with his parents. You wanted to see all of the pictures and look through everything. 

"I love you," he said before pulling you against him. You were afraid you were going to smash his ribs, but he was unrelenting. He buried his face against your neck and kissed you as he said, "I wish they could have met you. My mom would have loved you so much." You let the tears sting your eyes as he held you, and when he let you go, he had tears in his eyes too. 

"I'll walk Tramp, Sweetheart. Thank you so much for making dinner."

--------------------------------------------

Bradley was a wreck. He cried a little bit while he walked the dog, and it took him a while to gather his thoughts together. He had mentioned his parents' birthdays to you months ago. He knew when your parents' were, because he'd put them in his phone calendar, and you were also kind enough to remind him the day of so he could text them. 

But you'd made dinner for Carole, kind of. Or you'd at least made this day special so Bradley could hold on to his memories of his mom and celebrate her. With you. 

"Shit. Tramp, buddy. You think mommy and daddy should get married, right?" he asked the dog, getting a little tail wag in response. "Yeah, me too."

And the dinner was perfect. You mixed some of the pan drippings into Tramp's dog food before you sat on Bradley's lap. Between bites, he held you close and kissed your cheek. 

"What was your mom's favorite food?" you asked him softly before you took a bite of your crab cake. 

"Cotton candy," he replied with a smile. "She loved cotton candy so much, I could guarantee she'd take me to the carnival all the time as a kid, because she wanted the cotton candy." Bradley listened to you laugh, and he smiled. "She also loved French fries covered in cheese and gravy. Like so messy, you needed to eat them with a fork."

"What else did she like?" 

Bradley chewed up his steak and sat back in the chair. "Singing. She used to sing constantly, and I swear she knew the lyrics to every song ever recorded. She used to go line dancing with her cousins when I was old enough to stay by myself. And she used to like to set up little science experiments in the kitchen when I was a kid. It got me excited about school."

You burst into tears on his lap and flung your arms around his neck. "I love her so much, and I never even got to meet her."

Bradley held you and ran his fingers along your neck. "Mav once told me he wished he could say I was just like Goose, but I am actually more like her."

"She sounds amazing."

"She was."

---------------------------------------------------

Bradley took you to bed after dinner and made love to you for an hour. You told him to go slow, make sure he wasn't overdoing it with his injuries, but he needed you all over him. He needed to show you how much he loved you and how thankful he was to be with you. 

Then you took a shower with him, helping him keep his remaining stitches from getting too wet and then lovingly washing his hair for him. "I'd be lost without you, Sweetheart," he whispered. You shook your head and smiled but kept your eyes on his body. Bradley cradled your chin and bent down to make eye contact with you. "I'm serious. I wouldn't be healing this well on my own. You make sure I eat healthy meals and do my exercises. You take care of me."

You ran your fingers along his face, which was far less swollen and bruised now. You kissed his lips sweetly and said, "I just want to make sure you're healthy. And looking hot for your promotion ceremony."

You grinned obnoxiously, and Bradley shook his head. "You told me I'd look good in my dress whites even with the bruising."

"Roo, you'd look good in your dress whites in clown makeup."

His laughter filled the bathroom as you rinsed his hair. 

Bradley watched you put on his UVA shirt, and then he helped you brush your hair. He kissed and nipped the back of your neck, his lips meeting your necklace chain each time. 

"Come with me," he told you once you were both ready for bed. He took your hand in his and had you sit next to him on the piano bench. He showed you how to play the part of the song that he would have used his left hand for. After you practiced it a few times with him, he added his right hand, and together you played and sang a choppy rendition of Happy Birthday to Carole. 

And when he took you to bed, you were finally able to curl up on his chest for the first time in weeks. He'd be lost without you.

-------------------------------------

I hope you liked that sexy nurse scene. I did research for that!

PART 22

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

[maryannecrimsworth]

Two Hearts, One Kiss

Pairing: Will Halstead x Nurse! Hispanic! Reader

Summary: Your patient needed help, and there was only one person in the Med you could reach out to. After working for months at one of Chicago's top hospitals, you knew that was the best place to treat your patient - even if no one could know her name. Even after avoiding you for days, Will Halstead was the only one who could help you.

Author's note: this is the first request i've got in a while so thanks @zaidatorcuatomorgado for helping me write again

Warnings: (probably wrong) medical terms, a little bit of blood; this one is fluff tbh

The paramedics came through the emergency entrance with you following close behind. The woman lying on the stretcher, being carried along the corridor, was announced to the Chief of the ward.

–  62-year-old female, found unconscious inside her house. – the paramedic added.

– Pressure 7x4, 50 bpm, deep cut on forehead from a possible fall. – You took the lead from the medical first responders and reached out to the head nurse.

–Dr. Choi, Room 4. – Maggie said before you could stop her.

– Not him, please. – You were in the Med for a few months now, you knew how Choi would act. You needed somebody else, you needed him. - Get Halstead.

– What's the matter? – Maggie knew there was something wrong, you didn't make requests like that.

– Please, I'll explain later, just get Will. – He was the only one you trusted.

– Choi, hold up. Halstead, she's yours. – the doctors listened and obeyed Maggie right away.

– Thank you. – you squeezed the nurse's arm and ran to the room. Will had already transferred and examined the woman.

– No sign of concussion or brain damage. – he moved the flashlight away from the unconscious woman's eyes. – let's give her a liter of saline, x-ray, and a head CT. We need to find out what caused the fall.

– I'll take over – you said to the nurse in the room, who nodded and walked away promptly. Will continued to examine the patient while you cleaned your hands and put on your gloves.

– Was it you who found her? Did you notice anything?

– No, I just saw her slumped over and ran into her house.

– So you know her? – Fortunately, Will was too focused on looking for injuries on the woman to notice your hesitation. Still, your silence aroused suspicion and he raised his face to you.

– She is my patient. I need you to take care of her without asking questions.

– Y/n, that's not–

– Please – you approached him on an impulse; it didn't matter if things were awkward between you, you needed to help your patient. – her name can't go into the system.

– Why–

– Will! – he shut up immediately: he saw the worry in your eyes, he saw your fear.

He shook his head slightly, he was going to help you. You sighed with total relief, as if a ton had come off your shoulders.

– She has rheumatoid arthritis, but she has improved with physical therapy. I doubt it caused the fall.

– Does she take any medication?

– Just MTX.

– Right. – he stared at the woman lying on the bed and took a deep breath. – Order the tests and let's wait for the results. We'll find out what happened to her. 

You smiled at him. He might not have answered your request to go out with him yet, but you knew he wouldn't deny help to a patient of yours.

– About the other night…– his words made your face burn immediately. Perhaps this was not the best time to have this conversation, but Will went on: – I was caught by surprise with your request and— 

– Halstead, new patient, I need you in room 6. — Like an angel, Maggie appeared and cut him off: the doctor barely had time to reply and the head nurse was already pulling him away from you.

You were breathing more easily with his absence, at least you wouldn’t have to get a rejection after finding Mrs. Vasquez knocked out. You turned to the woman on the medical bedside and felt a tear run down your cheek. She was stable now, her prognosis was optimistic, but you could only think about her grandchildren. They would be terrified to know and to see their Abuela like                           this — no, no, you couldn’t let them see her like that. If anyone at the hospital figured out who the woman was, the kids would be brought up and the bills…Mrs. Vasquez could not afford the bills. 

Her whole family would fail and split because you called 911.

– Y/n? – Maggie walked in: her voice was low and soft, way too delicate for a woman in charge of the emergence wing. Right now, she was approaching you like a friend, not like a boss. – Are you alright? 

– Yeah, I’m just… — you cleaned your eyes. — in shock, I guess. 

– Would you like to stay here until she wakes up? You’re not on shift.

– Yes! Thanks, Maggie. 

The head nurse responded with a kind smile. 

– I’ll try to contact her family, they should know she’s here. – she stepped aside and got ready to leave: the phone on her hand was ready to make all the necessary calls. 

– Wait! – you reached her, preventing her from moving. Your eyes scanned the emergence wing before you went on: – Would you not..? – you whispered. – I don’t think she’s able to…pay for any of this. 

– I’m sorry, Y/N, but you know we’re struggling, if they discover someone’s not paying I–

– I know. –  you had no other choice: – Put my name on the bills, I’ll pay for her, just…please, she can’t be on the system. 

Maggie frowned at you. As always, she knew something was wrong, but she gave you a shot. She agreed and walked away without saying nothing. 

You sighed again, but your chest was still tight: you could only truly relax once you knew Mrs.Vasquez was okay. 

She’s been your patient for a year now. You started to work at the voluntary physiotherapy clinic as soon as you arrived in Chicago, and she was there. A working old lady raising three grandchildren by herself. She was exhausted and in physical pain — everyone would be in her place — but she was kind and happy, nonetheless. With your help and the treatment, she was getting better – now she could cook and sew much easier than before.  As a token of her gratitude, she frequently made you scarfs and empanadas. You were wearing one of her hand-made scarfs this morning, when you found her knocked out on the floor, bleeding. 

God, you felt like crying, and you did. Helping people like her was what gave purpose to your life; losing her, being hands off like that…it was breaking your heart. 

She had to get better. 

And you would stay by her side until she did. 

X

Nearly an hour has passed when Will came in with the results of the exams. You jumped off the chair and approached him:

– So? Why she fell? 

– You can relax already, your patient’s going to be okay soon enough. – He smiled proudly. – She passed out because of a cardiac arrhythmia, caused by too much caffeine. 

– Are you for real? – you choked a loud laughter, unable to believe him. – What about the CT? She’s fully ok? 

– Yes, she only needed stitches. – your joy was contagious, and now Will was laughing too. – The saline and the rest will be good to her but…honestly, she can go as soon as she wakes up. 

– Thank you so much! – you couldn’t help yourself: you ran over to him and hugged him in the middle of the room, in front of whoever that wanted to see. You squeezed him with all the strength you had and he, to your surprise, hugged you back. 

And neither of you have drifted apart. 

The only reason why you moved away was Mrs.Vasquez. Even with your head on his chest, you could hear the old woman grunting and moving on the bed. 

– Señora Vasquez! – you helped her to sit up. – ¿Estás bien? ¿Me oyes?

– ¿Por qué no escucharía? – she was still recognizing where she was. You gave her some time to analyze the place and understand what happened. – Oh. – her eyes focused on Will. – ¿Es ese el guapo que te gusta?

She pointed at him and you turned red immediately. Will didn’t have to speak Spanish, he already understood what she said. 

Again, he smiled proudly and stepped closer. 

– Hello, I’m Will. Can you speak my language? – Mrs.Vasquez nodded. – Great. Can you tell me your name? 

– Gloria Vasquez.

You stood silently as they talked. 

– Have you consumed much coffee recently, ma'am?

She turned to you before replying him: – ¡Qué encantador! ¡Cuán educado es! – your face was burning. – Yes, doctor, the kids wanted to have a sleepover and…well, a lady like me needs extra help to keep up with them. 

You held her hand tightly. 

– You passed out because of it, Gloria, you know you can’t do things like this. You could’ve been so much worse and—

– Cálmate, querida. – she caressed your hand. – I will survive, won’t I, doctor?

– That’s right. 

– That's what matters! – Gloria cheered, taking out a laughter from your worried expression. – Can we go now? – she came closer and whispered to you. – I have some interesting news for you. 

– Really? You want to gossip now? – you shook your head as you walked away. – No way. I’ll fill out the documents and you will rest, ma’am. – you were smiling, but your words were serious: she had to stay still for a while. Only a fall and a cut on the head would make Gloria rest properly. In a really weird sense, what happened this morning would be good to her.

It was possible to hear Mrs.Vasquez's mumbles from the corridor, but you had to give her some time — and give yourself a break as well.

You got so preoccupied that you got exhausted. Your back and legs were sore as if you had just worked out, and the tiredness hit you know. 

Will could see it in your face. 

– I was going to tell her off about all the coffee but I’m pretty sure you’ll take care of it. – he joked as he came closer to you. 

– I’m so sorry, Will. I've made a storm out of a glass of water and it was all because of a sleepover. – you laughed at yourself. – I feel a bit stupid right now. 

– Don’t be. You did right, she had to come to the hospital. 

– I’m not sure…It was too risky and…– You stopped talking. Shit. Will wasn’t supposed to know this. 

The doctor frowned at you. 

– Are you in trouble, Y/N? 

You looked away immediately. You wanted to tell him — you trusted him enough to tell him – but the more people who knew, the more likely the Guardian Council would get involved and try to separate Gloria from her family. Maybe she wasn't supposed to take care of three kids by herself, but she was all they had – and vice versa. They were a family, regardless of the state's opinion.

Again, it was too risky for the Vasquez family.

– I can’t—

– It’s okay. – He cut you off, his voice had a tone you'd never heard before: too serious and worried. – I don’t need to know but…just answer me: can I help you, somehow? 

You lifted your face to him – the question caught you by surprise. I shouldn’t — after all, this was all so typical of Will – but it did: his kindness surprised you. It always did. 

It was one of the main reasons why you could help but feel better around him. 

– You already did, Will. – you only noticed you were smiling when you saw his eyes dropping to your lips. Now he was smiling too. – Thank you again. – you stepped back. – See ya. – You were ready to go back to Gloria's room, but the world around you suddenly went dark, the ground seemed too far away and you felt your legs lose strength.

Will held you, preventing you from the fall. 

– God, this is so cliché. – you grunted under your breath, but Will was able to hear you. Your faces were almost glued together, and you felt his laughter on your skin. – Mierda. 

– Let me guess: you got so worried about Gloria that you forgot to eat.

You were already capable of standing by yourself, but his arms remained around you. 

– You guessed right. – you didn’t try to move away from him. 

– Is this a good time for dinner? 

– I don't think the cafeteria has anything worthy of being called a dinner, but–

– No. – Will chuckled. His cheeks were completely red. He was the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. – I mean, do you…Do you want to have dinner with me tonight? My shift will be over in a bit. 

You smiled brightly, your whole body was burning up now but it felt good. 

– So you finally made up your mind, uh? – unconsciously, you came closer to him. – You know, it’s rude to let a girl wait.

– Well, I got busy planning the most amazing date for the most amazing woman I’ve met. – you felt his breath on your skin. – And you haven't answered me yet. – his eyes fell to your lips again. 

This time, you couldn’t force yourself to move away: in an impulse, you grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him. 

His lips were softer than you'd imagined, but he was as passionate as you expected. 

You only broke apart when you lost your breath. 

Then you noticed that every nurse and doctor on the wing were cheering and watching. 

What a first kiss.

– Love the way you say ‘yes’. – He whispered to you.

Will was breathless and happy, his hands were holding you with tenderness and warmth. 

You couldn’t help: you kissed him again. 

And, this time, you could even hear Gloria cheering from her room.

#chicago med x reader #will halstead x reader #will halstead x you #will halstead #chicago med #maggie lockwood #physiotherapist #one chicago x reader #Spotify

[eddywoww]

I live in a more conservative area in the US. My family isn't, but whatever. Being LGBT was looked down upon in this area, my parents made sure to tell me it was ok and people were close minded (hell they even left the church they went to and started their own). They were great parents.

That being said the surrounding area was not. Got bullied in school for being gay, even though I simply was just focused on academics. I wanted an A more than I wanted the D am I right? Hm. It frustrated me because no one even asked and I was straight. This went on from when I was 10 to 17, when I finally graduated and got out of that area. The bullying was intense, from something as simple as name calling to having group projects turned in without my name but slurs on it to getting physically pushed around and shoved.

I went to college and met some cool people. Went to a pride parade as an ally. Started learning about different labels. Proclaimed to be demisexual with a desire for men because I still didn't really have any sexual desire and again, focused on school.

When I was 21 I moved to an entire new area for my job. Met a girl in her 30s who has a kid (12 or 13 at the time I dont remember) who came out as nonbinary and pan. Good for them! The woman was an "ally" except-

Tried forcing me to come out. Many times. Put me in secret uncomfortable situations. Some highlights of things she did were: take me to a gay bar without telling me thats where we were and then paying someone to kiss me and then kept asking if I realized I was gay because I didn't push the person away (I was shocked), after I claimed I was demisexual claimed that I had repressed my sexuality because society inherently tells you to be straight and that I was truly a lesbian, would claim I was a virgin if I never slept with a man because a woman couldn't take that so if i had "religious trauma" and wouldn't sleep with anyone based on keeping virginity i could with a woman and be fine (which I dont have any, my parents formed that church and were all inclusive and its a safe space hell they even organized pride events before the town did), and the worst of all got me drunker then I've ever been to the point I could barely stand and left me with a guy who had a crush on me who kept coming onto me. She talked to him and I saw her wink at him and she left me with this dude who got too handsy if you know what I mean. Nothing under the clothes happened thank God, and really it was my own fault for drinking so much at her place *she had many people over, I actually drank less then other people but still*. I asked why she left me with him and she said she was tired, then later said she wasn't surprised he tried anything and then said "well you're definitely gonna be gay now and not want to be with a man".

I left that area behind as my career progressed and it hit me, damn she was kinda fucked up. Kissed a few people and realized hold on I do have a sexual drive hello, and I dont have to get to know people first to have it?? Not demi then. Cool! Realised that the woman kinda fucked me up. I'm doing therapy which...is ok. But I got on Tumblr and have been on

And I've met some cool people. I've realized huh I guess a straight person doesn't think about boobs and vaginas while they get off. The dicks made sense, but the rest? And it hit me Holy shit im bi?? I think??

In my mind, being LGBT was okay but ME oh no suddenly it was the worst thing in the world. And im realizing its okay for me. Idk why I thought it wasn't except for the intense bullying. One thing that made me realize was everyone on tumblr. Like I said I met some cool people. I havent sent everyone a message because I want to be anonymous still. But you're one of the people who have helped me realize its ok. It is okay for me! So thank you for that. One of your fics really helped when I was first struggling with the realization and...thank you. It may not seem like a big thing to you, but its changed my life.

Thank you so much for sending me this. Like actually truly.

First of all, I’m so sorry for the situation with your ex friend. I can’t stand when people need to push and push to get the reaction THEY want, it sickens me deeply. Im sorry you went through that and I’m so happy you’re in therapy and that you’ve discovered yourself now.

It actually IS big to me when I hear about bisexual people accepting themselves. I don’t talk about it here much but I too grew up in a conservative area. I dropped out of school for bullying, etc but had the opposite story of knowing I was bisexual very young and not knowing how to word it? I just knew it was “bad” and I went to church a lot and I needed to repent for it. So I get that part in a warped way.

I think it gets to me for a very personal reason. There’s this inherent shake when you’ve been made to feel bad about your sexuality that resurfaces at random. I had an ex boyfriend who was obsessed with my sexuality in the opposite way. He was abusive and thought I was cheating constantly with my best friend, would call me a d*ke and a f*g constantly (almost always before some sort of physical abuse) and I was just deeply ashamed of my self, to the point of being biphobic at points.

What I’m getting at here is I came out after we broke up and I expected it to be this dawn of time shit because my family is accepting too! And I remember my mom getting upset and going, “Are you sure this isn’t about your breakup? Are you okay?” And I kind of just wanted to fucking scream. Or the way family members treat it like I’m divulging some sort of sexual secret. My sister coming out as bi years later really helped me. Dating someone who both did not care and didn’t want to sexualize me made it better.

In between all that, I ended up dating a girl who I could tell from the get go doesn’t see me (still now as friends) as “gay enough”. None of my struggle or my problems are the same, none of my fears are warranted, etc. that’s fine. I don’t need suffering to know who I am. What I’m trying to get at is even after years there are still tiny things that eat away at me but I’ve learned coping skills and developed friendships that make me feel so much better. And hearing stories from other people helps so much too. So thank you for telling me yours, it means a lot to me. I know you weren’t asking for a wordy response but I just woke up and I’m a sensitive bitch 😂

I���m sorry for the things you’ve gone through and I wish the world had been kinder to a young you. I’m glad you’re better now and if you ever need to message someone (if you ever choose to not be anon) I’m around ☺️💕

#asks #tw abuse

[mrslittletall]

So, it is the last day of the year... Let's reflect, shall we... You probably all know what happened at the end of last year. My husband got sick, I brought him to the hospital thinking it is an easy fix and then he was basically dying with sepsis. So yeah, that was... not great. Especially with all the complications that arose. He is home now, but he is not healthy yet. We have at least one surgery left and it will happen in January and then I hope he can finally go into rehab for good. The good news are, he is getting better and better at home, he even can stand for a few seconds, so I am positive a proper rehab can be done towards the end. He will be disabled for a good while though. Anyway, this year has been a challenge, both emotionally and physically, because I was suddenly alone and had to handle things that my husband normally does. I kinda realized I am stronger than I look then because carrying two sixpacks of 1,5 l water bottles was impossible for me once. It isn't anymore. I tried being creative when I found time, but I had to admit to myself that it isn't happening somewhen in Summer, so I went on hiatus, only writing when I truly had nothing else to do and going on a complete art hiatus. I miss it though. I want to write and draw regularly again, but there are still too many things in my mind. Mainly the stuff with my driver's licence because for some reason me running to my husband in hospital while in distress and accidentally damaging a car while parking which I didn't even notice is a warrant to punish me really really hard. I am still salty about that, yes! So how did I cope? Easily with indulging myself in video games: Let me put that under the cut:

When the thing with my husband first happened I barely was able to do anything. I was mostly cleaning and tidying up the apartment and then watch videos on Youtube because if I broke out in tears during this it was easy to pause and blow my nose. It took a few days and my husband getting better so that I could try and do other stuff again. And I really really indulged myself into Pokémon Scarlet. The games were pretty fresh during that time and I played them a little but not much, but now... I was hooked. I had days off work and if I wasn't visiting my husband, I would sit in front of my Switch and play Pokémon Scarlet and my god, did I love it! The story, the characters, the open world, the music... yes they are technical not well programmed, but I did never mind because that game gave me a peace of mind. Even after I finished the story I sat there each evening doing the Tera Raids. I love the Tera raids. Gen. 9 games are easily my favourite Pokémon games since Gen. 4 and funnily enough, when Gen. 4 came out I also had a hard time in my life, so I guess Pokémon is like my therapy game now... But of course I wasn't playing Pokémon the whole year. After I was done with it, I decided to finally finish Darkest Dungeon with a little help of one of my Discord servers. I pretty much only had the Darkest Dungeon left, but it takes a while because a group that went into it will never enter it again, so you basically have to level up four teams for each quest and that only if you don't fail it. Anyway, I had the game on hiatus for a whole year, so it felt good to finally finish it. And then I was like "Oh, I remember Anno 1800. I bought the History version a while ago but never played it. Let's do it." I then installed the game and was like "Hmmm, maybe I should get the other DLCs as well?" and they were on sale so I just got the last pack and started Anno 1800 with all DLCs activated.

And I got hooked for the first part of 2023. God, I played this game a lot. I also streamed it to friends so they could indulge in the towns that are being build up. Me and my friend Panda called it the "Autism game" because it basically is like building up your own miniature model town, only that everything is alive and moves around. The game however, can get overwhelming, especially with all DLCs, so I wasn't able to play it lately. I want to come back to it though. I also got myself into the Cooking Mama games when I was depressed and browsed Amazon for used DS games to see if I can get some nice deals. I bought the first Cooking Mama, tried it and was hooked. After a while I decided to buy the rest of the series and had five games to play for my DS and 3DS. I finished them all and they were a really good time. They also renewed my interest in trying new recipes at home, but that has to wait until my husband is better. And then I downloaded Final Fantasy 14, in an attempt to connect better to my husband because he played this game a lot before he became sick. I quickly got hooked, mostly because of the music. I upgraded to the full game even before I finished Heavensward (which is included in the free trial) and am currently at Endwalker and wow, just wow! There are flaws of course, but this story has been a roller coaster and I really have fun with the group content like the dungeons and the alliance raids and stuff! I hope my husband can go back to his character soon (his hands bother him still so he doesn't want to play) so we can play together. And that after I was like "Nah, after WoW I will never play a MMO again." Whoops... Speaking of Final Fantasy, in February TheatRhythm Final Bar Line released and I played the shit out of that game! I love the FF music, I love rhythm games, it is a match made in heaven. I even tried my hand on the supreme scores and they are truly super duper hard! Could only clear them with a full healer team, but playing them also meant that ultimate felt easy... I also played a charming indie game named Ato at the start of the year. It is basically a Metroidvania bossrush, but a really really good one with hidden lore you can find in the world. The final boss had me in tears and the music was so so good! I wholeheartedly recommend this game. It isn't super long either, you can finish that game in eight to ten hours depending on your skill.

In summer there released the new Harvest Moon and Story of Seasons games, but I kinda wasn't hooked with them. I will probably play them more once my husband is better. Instead, however, I got hooked by Rune Factory 3. I bought both 3 and 4 Special Edition for my Switch and decided to play 3 for and this game is so charming and I love the characters a lot and the gameplay loop is fun and ugh, why didn't I play these games sooner?! Yeah, I played RF3 a lot and I still have to finish it, but my husband mostly has the Switch at the moment and he deserves it after being away for a whole year ^^ Speaking of the Switch, Metroid Prime Remastered! My birthday gift for myself. The game is as fantastic as ever and even though I didn't 100 % it, I got a lot of the items and then beat the final boss. And speaking of big Nintendo IPs, Zelda Tears of the Kingdom. Like BotW it needed a while to grip me, but once it did, I was fascinated! I still have to finish it however, it is a big game and it will keep me busy for a while longer. Now it is the end of the year. I am still busy with FF14 and Zelda ToTK. Pokémon DLC released and I wanna play that. And I bought Lies of P for my PS5 and love it so far! I am updating you guys about Lies of P regularly and sometimes about FF14 and Zelda. Also, I decided to use my Steamdeck more, so I play a dungeon crawler named Silent Hope on it (from the Story of Seasons developers, that got me interested) and I started a cozy game named Potion Permit. Of course I threw my Laurence into it. Feels fitting for him to be a chemist xD What will the new year bring? Hopefully my husband will be better and will be able to walk again. Other than that, I hope that I keep my licence. And then... I just hope that I can continue being creative and if not... I keep playing my games.

#little's end of the year rambles

[inscrutable-shadow]

Mediwhump May Day 4 - Pain

@mediwhumpmay

This is canon-compatible with the current version of the ieiunus-verse (the current name of the universe in which my vampire stories take place) and therefore uses the main WIP tag. Thanatos is, obviously, a vampire. Born in Athens in 421 BC, he is currently working as a therapist in a modern-day city while living with his lover, the physical manifestation of Reality itself. The Archfey just thinks he's cute, and the vampire sex is a plus, too. The only content warning is I guess skip this one if you don't want to see PG-13 flirting, lol.

Thanatos was used to waking up and wishing he hadn’t. This was usually due to laziness. He would never have purported to be a hardworking sort of man, and immortality had not inspired in him any sort of work ethic. He preferred to spend his days either reading philosophy, writing his own essays, or systematically destroying the worldviews of his therapy clients, none of which he considered “work“, but rather entertainment. Today, however, he’d be unable to do any of those things. Getting out of bed was a challenge when his curse ached like this.

As much as most vampires would like you to forget it, vampirism is, in fact, a curse. Since Lord Cain Umbra had forged his contract with the Shadow on a distant planet tens of thousands of years ago, each vampire has been forced to abide by the terms of not only his original agreement, but their own contract: offer up blood and death to the Shadow in exchange for power and eternal life.

Well. Not life exactly. A vampire wasn’t technically dead, only mostly so, the natural ties that bound the soul to the body replaced by threads of dark magic. It felt just as if someone had taken real thread and stitched it throughout your body, and the pain never went away. It wasn’t as bad after four thousand years as it had been when he’d freshly turned, with the wounds on his soul just as fresh as the memory of life without pain, but it was still known to flare up from time to time. 

Why today of all days? It wasn’t as if he’d been derelict in his duty to the Shadow. He’d just hunted two days ago, and he was barely hungry. Nor could he recall any contact with high levels of light magic such as a seraph or a revenant would be able to wield: his life had been rather peaceful of late. He couldn’t ponder it any further, though, distracted as he was by the Archfey materialising under the covers next to him. It was so strange how ae did that.

“Good afternoon, slug-a-bed, if you have no pressing work to drag you from your sheets, perhaps you will consider pressing something else...?” ae whispered in his ear, and he realised ae wasn’t wearing aer robes, the coolness of aer skin granting him the smallest relief from his curse. 

As much as he wanted to make love to aer, with aer eyes like the sun and smile like the hearth, the thought of doing that much exercise made him want to lock himself into a coffin and not come out for a few hundred years. “Forgive me, my love,” his voice was faint and strained with effort. “I don’t think I’ll have the energy today…”

The Archfey’s forehead wrinkled as ae rested aer chin on his shoulder. “Are you unwell, Thanatos? Tell me what ails you. Shall I conjure blood for you? Or is the house too cool? Have you grown tired of the wallpaper or the carpeting? I can change-“

“No, my dear heart, you needn’t change the furniture. The curse is quite painful today, is all.” He wanted nothing less than for the Archfey to conjure blood for him. Even after the thousands of years they’d spent together, ae was still as bad as it as ae’d been when they met. He cupped aer cheek affectionately, trying not to focus on the edges of his soul burning. 

Ae thought for a moment, leaning into his touch. “Would... drinking my magic help?”

Thanatos shook his head. If anything, that would probably make it worse: it had just occurred to him that his close proximity to the literal manifestation of reality, a being composed of pure magic, likely disagreed with his soul stitching and caused these flares to begin with. “I just need to rest, Rea. Don’t fret over me.”

The Archfey seemed to have come to a decision. “Yes. You can drink your fill later.” Flirting with him? Now? Ae kissed him on the cheek and teleported away, leaving him to wonder what ae was up to.

Than had just started trying to go back to sleep when his lover returned clothed and bearing a tray, upon which sat a bowl of hot water and some towels. “I watched mortals do this recently. A ‘warm compress’ relieves muscle tightness and reduces pain. This will help you.” He didn’t think it would, but he thought the whole thing was adorable, so he didn’t argue.

To his surprise, as the Archfey packed the hot cloths around him, the pain receded slightly. Even if, by the end, he looked like a mummy and was just as immobile as when they’d started, he felt much better. He groaned as he relaxed into the pillows, letting the heat sink into his bones. It wasn’t as if his vampiric body was producing much of its own. 

“How is that, darling? Any better?”

“Mhm,” he mumbled with his eyes shut, already dropping off again. The Archfey smiled and tucked aerself in next to him.

Perhaps the curse wasn’t so bad after all.

Tagging @albatris because we are vampire mutuals now :) lmk if you'd rather not get tagged in ieiunusverse content!

#whump #my writing #original fiction #mediwhumpmay #whumpblr #wip: ieiunusverse #thanatos iuventus #the archfey reality #i have Thoughts about these two #probably gonna start posting about them eventually #but for now some fluffy h/c #coy writes

[rise-uncalledfour]

TW: panic attacks, hospital, drawing blood, MRI's

I've seen so many angst stories on here about how people found their fandom. Well let me tell you MINE.

Very, VERY recently, (like 5 months ago) I had a stroke. (mind you I am 13) I had a sinus infection which traveled through my brain and down my neck. I couldn't walk, talk, my arms were too weak to do anything, and I was pretty much in a hospital bed or wheelchair for a full month.

While I was in the hospital, I had a really hard time sleeping and a lot of MRI's which equal panic attacks. I wasn't mentally there, so a lot of things set off panic attacks, like when I spilt something I would think I would get in trouble, or when I was supposed to have a surgery (neck) and it got cancelled, I would think it's my fault and hyperventilate. I was even scared to ask to go to the bathroom, thinking the doctors were going to be annoyed or something. (I was on a lot of fluids which meant MANY bathroom trips)

I figured out the hospital had a tablet, in which I could practice using my fingers and gaining a little hand coordination, but it also had a bunch of streaming services like Hulu, Paramount +, Netflix, ect.

I ended up watching the rottmnt movie after a bunch of other TV shows, like Steinfeld and We Bare Bears. I would always perk up when Mikey used magic hands (like 2 times but still) and went "He is just like me fr"

I started watching the show, and started trying to act like the characters towards the doctors. Like when they drew blood, I would say "I'm taking this like a boss!" and the doctors would be so caught off guard because I wasn't talking for 3 weeks and now here I am making jokes. And then I would try to act like Leo, making jokes like "Hey, maybe I could get super powers after this" The doctors had no idea what was making me so happy, but they were like, "Okay we can use this" So for physical and mental therapy, they used rottmnt to help me try to stand and move around and talk. When I had MRI's, they could actually play the show through some goggles, so I would watch that and be stuck inside a tube for an hour and a half without fail.

I told them about how Mikey used his hands to open a portal, and that maybe his recovery would be like mine (Obviously not the whole not walking just with the shaky and not working hands) so they sat down and watched the end of the movie where Mikey did that, and they wanted to help me reenact it, because it involves me exercising my arms by keeping them up and standing. It was fun, and after that I thought of the post-movie, in which they would have to recover after that, so they aren't so different from me. A few short weeks later, I was walking, talking, my hands were somewhat working, I was out of a wheelchair, and I had a new obsession to bring home to my parents.

And that's the half story of my recovery, and of how I got into rottmnt

#rottmnt #true story #stroke #recovery #mental health #healing #rottmnt donnie #raph rottmnt #rottmnt movie #unpause rottmnt #leo rottmnt #rottmnt mikey #magic handssssss #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #mike rottmnt #hospital #patient #hospitalized #trama dump #tramua #tramatized #tw depressing thoughts #tw ed rant #tw death #physical #treatment #mental #patients

[iidigestive-readerii]

The Good Jedi pt 3

Ahsoka wakes up confused and a little shaken before she remembers that she's in Satine's apartment. It's full of neutral colors and soft pillows and throws - not what she'd quite expect from a Mandalorian.

She had showered before bed and now sitting on the mattress looking around she realizes she's in a guest room. The clothes she was wearing had been on the bed after she showered, and the logo on the shirt she's wearing is from Sundari Academy. 

Sliding out of bed, she went to the 'fresher briefly to make herself somewhat presentable. The 'fresher wasn't anything fancy, she notes while relieving herself. Plain. Like a motel bathroom, almost.

The carpet of the bedroom is soft and barely worn while she digs around for a sweater. It's not that she's cold, but the comfort of one is compelling. She eventually finds an oversized Smashball hoodie in the closet, frowning at the year before putting it on. It was older than she was. 

Looking at the alarm clock, she realized it was nearing ten in the morning. She never slept that late… Obi-Wan would…

Obi-Wan wouldn't care, she realized on the way out the door. Her second master always let her sleep in between campaigns. It was Anakin who always woke her for more training, more teaching… Shaking her head, she stepped further into the hallway. There hadn't been much of a tour last night - everyone went to bed pretty much immediately. 

The walls were orange, small glazed windows peppering each side to let light in. There was another room across the hall, the door closed. She took a few steps, then turned her head to the room at the end of the hall. The master bedroom. 

The one both Satine and Obi-Wan had disappeared into. The door was open, and she could see dark purple walls and a large, unmade bed. 

So they were awake. 

There hadn't been time to process the feelings and emotions about Mandalore the past few weeks… Or Obi-Wan's relationship with its Duchess. She had never asked - it was never her place. They seemed content enough that it never mattered. 

The hallway dumped into the living room, which was much the same color palette: soft oranges, blues, pinks, with a large sectional in the center of the room. Two cloaks were tossed at the end. There were bookshelves scattered about, picture frames on the walls, an old fashioned television. There were a few doors at the corners of the room, probably containing storage closets or a home office or something. She'd only ever been in the downstairs part of the apartment, the formal dining room and entertaining area and communication room. Not…this.

Laughter broke her train of thought, and she wandered towards the sound and the kitchen. Her stomach grumbled at the smell of waffles and caf.

"...that the caretaker meant to kill him. Even if she did not intend to. She had every right."

"They all had something to gain, no matter the relationship."

Her back to Ahsoka, Satine let out a gusty sigh and took a large sip of her drink. "Why did I let Anakin give me all these holos… Anyways, I still think it was the owner of the estate. Everyone loved him for his money, nothing else."

"Then why - " Obi-Wan turned as he spoke, pointing the spatula at Satine before he froze, his expression softening. "Ahsoka…"

"...hi."

Satine turned, waving her forward. There was a medical brace around her chest and back, probably some left over - or continuing - physical therapy. "I'd ask you if you slept well but uhh… were you comfortable?"

Ahsoka nodded as she slid into a seat, smiling a little as Obi-Wan placed a cup of cat in front of her almost immediately. "Do you have any…thanks," she mumbled as he sprayed whipped cream on top of the caf. "Were you discussing one of Anakin's soaps?"

"Had to entertain myself somehow in the hospital. They're surprisingly addicting."

"I prefer crime…documentaries.” Ahsoka trailed off as she watched her normally uptight master spray whipped cream from the can into his mouth and continued to stack waffles onto three plates. One for each of them. “Are the clothes Korkie’s?”

Satine nodded as the plates were set, followed by a platter of melon and syrup. “I figured you two are about the same size.”

“I’m sure I can have Aayla bring some of your belongings over if you want Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan sat, cutting into three waffles at once. Ahsoka shrugged, picking up her fork. “That’s okay. Where’s Korkie? Why isn’t he here?”

The silence was deafening. Something wasn’t right. Obi-Wan sighed, reaching across the table to cover Satine’s hand. “We don’t know. Haven’t heard anything.”

“...last time I saw him he was being smacked across his face and knocked unconscious.” Satine took a sip of her caf to steady herself, pulling her hand away. “I don’t think most species could handle the neck bending like that.”

“You discredit him - Korkie’s a fighter. It’s in his gene pool, he won’t go down without a fight, god damn it. I pray for Vizsla.”

Ahsoka frowned, glancing between them as she pictured the Mandalorian prince. The resemblance was there, half the Galaxy had noted it, but neither had ever said anything and -

“The answers are yes and yes, Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan’s smile was a bit crooked, his eyes misty. “Took you long enough.”

“Not my business… but what are we gonna do about all…this?”

Satine leaned back in her chair, fingers scratching at the brace. “...I have an idea.”

---

I'll post the links to chapters 1 and 2 at a later date, but I'm sure you can find fairly easily! This is on Ao3 too!

But omg, thank you all so much for the response to this fic! Woah! I'm so happy everyone likes this! Fics dealing with both Ahsoka AND Satine's arcs are rare, I'm so glad I could fill a gap! I have no idea how many chapters this will be, it was just an idea I had to get out of my head! So comment, reblog, and if you're able tip me. I'll have my updated Ko-fi link up soon. Best! - DR

#the good jedi #obitine #the wrong jedi au #the lawless au #satine kryze #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #star wars fanfiction #ii digestive reader ii

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hi. Can't think of trigger warnings, maybe for crappy therapy and a bad therapist and some mentions of physical illness. Looking for advice. Nickname purple

I'm just wondering if you have any advice on how to get over a fear of/reluctance to seek therapy (and to am extent medical care in general). More and more often I'm starting to think I'll never be able to function normally without some help but I'm so scared to get it. In part I think this came from my mom's own mental illness and how whatever pills she took (no idea what they were or even what they were for besides that there were a lot) left her so out of it all the time and sometimes made her destructive on top of neglectful, and from my dad's distrust of the medical system as a whole, to the point of ignoring his doctors after a heart attack, not seeing care for cancer until it had progressed too far too fix, and generally being reluctant to get me any medical care and being mad at my mom if she took me to the doctor for anything, because it was babying me and would make me think it was okay to be weak and I should be stronger and trust God before 'weird medicine'. Between that and most people in my life growing up basically thinking mental Illness isn't real and anyone who claims to have it is faking maliciously or, especially if they claim to have significant past trauma, flat out delusional (and yes, they applied this to me, even when I was actively suicidal or had visible marks from abuse).

I got sent to a therapist when I was twelve, against my will in a whole court ordered thing, and while I don't remember many specifics of the first session I know I was reluctant to talk and he ended up screaming at me until I shut down. The few additional sessions there were went better, though only because I coasted through and just tried to give the most 'normal' responses to anything he said so I'd be allowed out of it all sooner.

Now, well into adulthood, my issues have only gotten worse and worse. It feels my mind is falling apart and I'm so frequently scared, my emotional regulation and memory are practically non-existent. I can't get away from self harm or disordered eating (though I often doubt a therapist would think those things are significant), can barely keep myself from falling back into substances. I can barely get a job or keep it and sometimes the only thing keeping me here is being scared to die though sometimes that doesn't even work (I'm not actively suicidal right now just to clarify). More than ever it feels like I'm barely real or even alive.

But I'm still scared to even try to schedule a therapy or psychiatrist appointment. I'm scared I won't even be able to talk when asked what's wrong since more and more now I've been having verbal shutdowns, especially in frightening enchantments or under the slightest stress, which I respond to worse than ever lately. I've been thinking of writing down a summary of what's going on but I don't know if they'll accept that, if they'll want me to talk normally. I'm scared they'll want me to go into past trauma but I just can't, not to a stranger or sometimes to anyone at all. I'm scared they'll think I'm just making everything up and turn me away. I'm scared they'll think I'm just a whiny child that can't handle normal life, or I'm just looking for some excuse to not participate in society or get drugs or something (funny, since I'm afraid to take meds and I'd probably just refuse if prescribed something controlled). I'm just scared and I know I won't be able to take it if I get even a fraction of the treatment I did at that therapist back then or most other times I've tried to bring up anything wrong with me to people in my life. I just don't know what to do I'm sorry I'm sorry

Hi Purple, I am so sorry for your experiences, and would like to start by validating your mental health struggles, and trauma history, and commend you for the self awareness it takes to want to develop new coping skills for a healthy functioning base line. We all deserve the space and time to explore what that means for us, and I hope you find yours as well. It makes all the sense in the world to me, that with both your background, and experiences, that the thought of seeking out therapy would feel the way it does for you. I deeply empathize with it, and know it is something that unfortunately does happen within the medical community. I had the opportunity to reply to a previous ask about something similar that I'll link here as well, but essentially, I'd like to copy over two core parts of it: This link about red flags in therapists (not to discourage!) but to help validate your experiences and not potentially self-gas light yourself as you navigate new medical professionals along your healing journey.

But also this part:

"Of course it’s very understandable that without feeling safe, the appointment could feel so jarring that even if you meet a kind one, it could be hard to convey what you’re looking for.  

My first advice would be to ask if someone can go with you, someone you feel comfortable with, and who you might even be able to practice a dialogue with beforehand.  

Even if they can, or cannot come, my second piece of advice is to have your questions written down as well.  Worst come to worst, if you feel unable to verbally share your concerns, perhaps you could slide them over so they can reply.  

My third piece of advice is to ask for a print out of the after visit summary, with clear instructions and follow up to what the next steps might be - something you can refer to in the future as well." Regardless of what you choose moving forward, I hope you find someone who helps you feel seen, heard, and encourages you along your healing path.

Mod Kat

#trauma talks #mod kat #therapy #purple

[icewindandboringhorror]

Daily Log 8

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Dr's appointment early in the morning, then had to go to the bank and pick up one other thing after. Of course since minimal exertion somehow makes me exhausted for the entire day because of the many wretched curses upon my physical form, I didn't accomplish much else lol..

Took pictures of the avocado pit carved items. Not sure when I'll have the time to edit and post them.

FINALLY did plant the Nasturtiums, and a few other plants! I dislike most "yardwork", especially pulling weeds, because it's hard for me to tell what counts as a "weed" or not, since some of these apparent "weeds" are also pretty flowers and I feel bad for destroying them. A while ago at a relative's house they were doing yardwork and I saw a pile of some of these "weeds" on the ground, so I took a few home to try and replant them. I finally got around to putting them in real containers today, and most of them seem to be doing well so far.

Unfortunately the 'forget me not' flowers (some of my favorites because of blue being one of my favorite colors) never seem to transplant well, after multiple attempts at saving them from people's yards and thinking I've dug down deep enough to get all the roots this time and etc. etc. , they just seem to kind of flop and die after replanting them.. epic gardening fail.. misery and sadness . so on and so forth

Edited next sims let's play video for like barely 15 minutes.

Thought about a few ideas for the story I think I mentioned in the first Daily Log about a doctor and magical experiments. :3c

Had a lot of what seems like nerve pain?? or something?? in my arms radiating down to my fingertips and wrists (likely something to do with my shoulder blades/chest/back of upper neck/shoulder area being perpetually problematic), so I didn't do a lot of work with my hands or computer stuff for long.. stimky

Sketched out one of the border sections for the tapestry painting thing, but really Thought About It more than Did Any Tangible Progress.

Washed like two miserable little dishes in my cringe fail kitchen sink with my loser lame achy fingers and hands

Notable sights: SAW SOME GEESE when walking past a park today!!!! I rarely ever see geese, mostly just ducks and common birds and squirrels around here. There were also some interesting plants I briefly got to look at in a store on the way home from my appointment. I don't even want much in life (yet it all seems so unattainable for someone in my situation lol), like I don't want to have a mansion or anything, but just a modest little house with a small yard would be so cool.. I would love to actually curate a real permanent garden instead of everything having to be in pots all the time. connection across time with my very likely peasant ancestors, looking up to the sky like 'ah, if only I were part of the landowning class'

Goals moving forward: SUPER focus on social activities, finding new friends in the places I want to move, communicating with ones I have, because I keep ignoring this for weeks and I am never going to have a social support network if I don't actually build one lol.. Living in a broad interconnected society where social tethers are pivotal for survival (unless you're rich - and even then, social connections likely help substantially in career and etc. - most currently rich people had rich parents, etc. etc.) is so antithetical to my hermit nature.. aughhh....Why so inherently difficult for brain to Process Socialization And Communication. >:V

Physical therapy exercises. Finish and upload videos, edit costume pictures & etc. Do the new costumes I've planned. MAKE SCULPTURES at some point, I miss them.

Notable foods: ASPARAGUS DAY FghdhVGVTYYEAAAAA!!! asparagus squad1!!!!! Also went against the evil nutritionist diet and allowed myself one serving of bread which I used to make a spicy turkey wrap sort of thing. >:) I miss being able to make spicy pickled onions and stuff. Still wishing for heartier food too.. I get blood testing soon, so maybe I'll find out if I'm actually deficient in something that's giving me constant cravings lol..

#just posting these publicly since it feels more like I'm doing something or easier to hold yourself accountable if you make public #declarations of goals and progress or etc. .. perhaps.. for now #no rambling tags today... too seepy eepy #investing my limited time stocks into Napping Incorporated instead of The Longwinded Typing Company #daily log

[landosgirl97]

Cheers to Charleston Part 8 - Chasetell Series

*Chantell’s POV* 

After a few weeks of recovery, I could tell the stress of everything was starting to wear on Chase, I could tell but he would never admit it. I was tired between Chloe, the new growing baby, and physical therapy but I still tried to help when I could. Some nights he’d go out with the guys and not come home and I’d barely hear anything from him other than a mere “Im fine. See you tomorrow.” I tried to be understanding until the night before our first sonogram when Chloe was ill and I had no help. I had called him three times and couldn’t get in touch with him so I called Drew. He picked up almost immediately. “Have you seen Chase?” He seemed hesitant to answer me but finally did, “Yeah, I’m with him, why?” I scoff, “Can you tell him to answer his damn phone? Our kid is sick and I really could use some help.” Drew coughs, “Well, he’s kind of passed out on my couch, but I’ll send the girls over okay? I promise to have him there as soon as he wakes up.” I sigh, “Yeah okay, thanks Drew.” 

The girls made it to the house in less than ten minutes. Jas and Baby sat with me on the couch as I vented about how things had been going while Lex went to check on Chloe and give her medicine. I remember eventually falling asleep on the couch for a few hours but coming to, to a conversation between my friends. 

Baby: “Drew sent me a picture, Chase is still knocked out on his couch.”

Lex: “Who the fuck is that with him? Why is he curled up against some chick?”

Jasmine: “I’m actually going to strangle his ass. What the hell.”

The girls went back and forth arguing for a bit about whether to tell me or not, until Lex noticed the silent tears flowing down my face. “Guys, I don’t think we have to tell her anything.. She knows.” She nodded her head in my direction and the girls turned in my direction. I continued to lay there, hugging my pillow and hoping against all odds that it was all a dream. Once I got my wits about me I sat up and looked at Baby. “Let me see.” She shook her head no. I looked at Lex and pleaded with her. “Please,I need this. I need to know who it is and what I’m dealing with.” Lex nodded and Baby showed the photo to me. Sure enough, there was my boyfriend, curled up on Drew’s couch with some blonde tucked under his chin, his hands cradling her just like he does to me. I felt the tears begin to fall down my face before I could stop them. I handed Baby her phone back and looked back at the girls. “Let’s get Chloe and go get breakfast. Then she and I will go to the appointment that he obviously forgot about.” I got up off the couch before anyone could protest and went to my room to get dressed. I put on my shorts and tshirt, wearing my own this time instead of Chase’s and went to get Chloe ready. The girls packed her bag and met us at the door. We left to go to Waffle House and eat and then Chloe and I went to the appointment.

*Chase’s POV* 

I woke up with a horrible headache and was super uncomfortable. My room didn’t smell the same and something felt off. I slowly opened my eyes to see Drew sitting across the room from me. I went to get up but felt a pair of arms holding me down. I looked down and realized that it wasn’t my girlfriend and I had no clue who this girl was. I immediately pushed her arm off of me and looked at Drew. “What the hell happened last night?” He shook his head. “You asked her to come inside with you and next thing I know, I find you like this. Also, you missed Chantell’s ultrasound, and Chloe is sick. The girls are over there helping her.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Baby walked in the door. She shot daggers at me, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead. She walked over and gave Drew a kiss. He looked at her quizzically, to which she replied, “Lex is with her and she’s a mess. Jasmine and Austin took Chloe for today.” She looked over at me before stating, “she’s feeling better today by the way. Thanks for being so concerned.” and rolled her eyes, walking back toward their shared bedroom. I got up and began looking for my shirt and my phone. I knew I needed to get home and fix this as soon as possible. Once I found them, I left Drew, Baby, and mystery girl behind and hopped in the Bronco, heading toward our shared apartment. When I got there, I knocked on the door and walked in, the sight before me immediately destroying any shred of confidence I had left. Chantell was curled up on the couch asleep, Kleenexes around her and her cheeks tear stained. Lex sat next to her, scrolling on her phone and her head shot up when I walked in the door. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” she whispered. I sat down in the chair in our living room with my head in my hands. “I’m just overwhelmed. I didn’t know how to deal with everything so I decided to avoid it. In hindsight, not my best idea.” She nods, “no shit Sherlock. How do you plan to explain to Chantell that you cheated on her? Yes, she knows already but you know she’ll ask.” “I didn’t cheat. Nothing happened with her. I promise. I seriously thought she was Chantell.” She just shook her head and got off the couch. “Here’s the sono picture from today. She wanted me to give it to you if you came home. Chloe is with Austin. Let her sleep. She’s been crying for hours.” She placed both hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Fix this or I’ll hurt you. Seriously.” Then she walked out the door, leaving me alone with my sleeping girlfriend.

*Chantell’s POV* 

I woke a few hours later to the smell of pancakes and the giggles of my sweet daughter. I laid there silently for a few minutes before I heard Chloe’s little feet padding into the room and pretended to be asleep. She poked my arm and tugged at my shirt, “mommy? Mommy, wake up! We made pancakes!” A slow smile spread across my face as I opened my eyes and looked at her. I sniffed the air and made a face, “Mmm.. it smells good! Let’s go get some.” I walked into the kitchen to see Chase laying our plates down at the table as he lightly smiled up at me. “Good morning, here’s your breakfast. Chloe has a playdate with Uncle Drew after breakfast so we can talk.” I just nod my head, taking a seat and eating my pancakes and listening to Chloe tell me about the day before with Austin and Jas. We all cleared our plates and I helped Chloe get ready to go see Drew while Chase did dishes. 

After Chloe left, Chase sat me down on the couch and said he wanted to talk. “Baby.. I’m so fucking sorry. For everything. I know I really messed up yesterday.” I just nodded along, numb to the thought at this point. “Baby?” he asked, grabbing my attention again by grabbing under my chin and turning it to face him. “I don’t know what to think right now Chase. I don’t know whether you cheated, I don’t know if I even want to know, really. I’m literally carrying your child and you won’t even come home to me at night. How is that supposed to make me feel?” He takes my hands in his and looks me in the eyes. “Nothing happened between me and that girl. I swear, I thought she was you. I’m so fucking sorry. Please, I promise to do better, I just feel overwhelmed.” I shook my head, “I don’t know Chase. You seriously fucked up this time. I let it go for a while but I can’t anymore.” Chase’s eyes teared up as he looked at me, “Please baby?”

Tag List: @pankowforlife @wannabestarkeysgirl @my-baexht-ls @bethoconnor @samxslaughter @tishanas-darlings @jjmaybank63 @outerbankspov @slutforsmutsstuff @hoebx @adventuresinobx

#chasetell #outer banks #obx #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #obx fic #chase stokes #chasetell4life

[wri0thesley]

hello! i really like your blog <3 and was wondering if you have any tips for me as someone who has agoraphobia? you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to have a nice day!

hello anon! honestly, i am very lucky to be in the uk where certain kinds of therapy and counselling are free; the biggest factor for me in getting over* my agoraphobia was getting cbt and occupational therapy! but here are my other tips;

try and keep your living space clear. i have hoarding tendencies and on the worst days it was so overwhelming to look at the place i spent 100% of my time and see piles of things that i just didn't have the mental space to clear.

try and get fresh air even if you just open a window and walk away from it, or a front door; the air circulating will make you feel better!

small increments. say 'i will take one step outside of my front door today'. if you can't do it, don't beat yourself up; if you can do it, great job! one small step is better than no small steps.

actually; 'don't beat yourself up' is a good one in general. looking back at things you used to do is no help at all. i developed agoraphobia after i had to drop out of uni because i had a nervous breakdown. the year before that, i was able to go to london on my own, get a megabus on my own, go to the theatre on my own, stay in a hostel with strangers, go to an audition that would change my life if it was successful. thinking about that made me feel like absolute shit. anything you do now is an achievement, no matter how little it might feel like it in comparison. comparison is very much the thief of joy!

when i started this blog i lived in one room, barely went downstairs and even more rarely got any fresh air (basically only when i was physically escorted to the doctor's because i had to be). having this blog and an outlet to still communicate and make friends (and a positive response on things i COULD do and DID make) was invaluable in recovery for me; if you can think of something similar (discord servers, writing blog, making art for yourself, any other online groups), i firmly believe it really does help.

remember i believe in you and i am rooting for you, anon <3 agoraphobia is INCREDIBLY hard. you can do it! you can make it through this!

(*insofar as i can; there are certainly still days i struggle with it! but i can pretty routinely leave the house and catch a bus on my own nowadays, and i do that every week to go to a singing lesson . . . which i would never have thought i'd be able to do again a few years ago!)

#nat.txt #mental health cw

[missywritesfor7]

🌺 Promise Flower | PJM 🌺

Synopsis: Jimin is a popular dance student and the best one at his university. Mina is a photography student and has known Jimin since high school. An idea for a photo project finds Mina getting closer to him than she ever has before. She learns how big his heart is, but also learns how closely he guards it. Every time she thinks he'll let her in, he pulls away again. Is it even worth the trouble?

Pairing: college student!Jimin x fem!oc

Warnings: depression, anxiety, panic attacks, alcoholism

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|| Ch. 10: Unspoken ||

Monday I spend half the day wondering if I should try texting Jimin again. I know he’ll be on campus so I’m bound to run into him at some point.

It’s still a little weird that he suddenly seems to not want to talk to me, but Tae keeps telling me to just talk to him anyway, that I’m overreacting. I don’t even know what to say. Do I just try talking to him like nothing happened or do I straight up ask him if he hates me?

I decide to have a drink at the cafe after I finish my last class of the day. I can just hangout there a bit and work on editing some of my photos on my laptop. I’m just not quite ready to go home yet.

Right when I walk into the door of the cafe I meet eyes with Jimin standing in line. He smiles at me and I think maybe I’m being silly about him hating me. Maybe.

“Hey,” I say getting in line behind him. “How was your first day back?”

“A little weird,” he says nervously. “I used to have my dance class today but since I’m not in it anymore I only had one class. I still went by to say thanks to everyone for the concert though.”

“Do you…have any plans for the rest of the day?” I don’t know why I’m so nervous about asking. Sure he turned me down yesterday but it shouldn’t make me feel the way I do right now. He’s not going to spend every waking moment with me and I shouldn’t expect that. Especially after I threw up all over him.

“Just physical therapy in a couple of hours.” He pauses searching the floor for more words. “But…I’m not doing anything else today. So…I’m free.”

“Oh, ok. Is Hoseok taking you to your appointment?”

“Yeah, he’ll be out of class by then.”

“Well…I was going to go over some of my pictures while I drink my coffee, do you want to take a look at them?”

“Sure.”

So maybe he doesn’t hate me? Maybe he needed time to process everything. But he still seems a little reserved right now. It’s like we’ve only known each other 7 days and not 7 years.

After ordering and getting our drinks we take a seat at a table and I pull out my laptop to show him the photos I’m working on. As usual he’s a bit embarrassed looking at pictures of himself but he’s still very interested in each one.

I guess I hadn’t been paying much attention, or I had been so distracted the past couple of weeks that I didn’t realize I don’t have many photos at all.

“Did you take any more?” Jimin asks.

“No,” I say trying to laugh it off. “I guess not. Shit.”

“You only have a few pictures from my surgery, but that’s all?”

“I thought I had more…”

“Oh,” he chuckles.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says shaking his head. “I could ask my physical therapist if it’s ok, and if you want you can come to my next appointment and take pictures.”

“Really? That’d be great!”

He nods and says he’ll let me know if they’ll allow me to come to his next session. I realize I need to at least make an effort to take my camera with me whenever I see him. I had gotten so…distracted…that I stopped taking my camera altogether whenever I saw him.

I feel better now that we were able to sit down and talk. Although we didn’t actually talk about anything that we needed to talk about, but maybe we can address it later?

Hoseok came by to collect Jimin and take him to his appointment. I decided it was a good time for me to go home as well.

As expected, Jin isn’t home so I lounge around a bit and try to attempt some studying. Seems like I’ve done barely any all semester and it’s a miracle I haven’t failed any of my assignments so far. However, my attempt at studying proves to be futile and I find myself falling asleep on the couch.

I’m only awakened by a few text messages that set my phone off. Usually it’s Tae but to my surprise is Jimin telling me he finished his physical therapy for the day and they said it was ok for me to take pictures. I’m excited and I agreed to take him to his next appointment.

We continue texting through the night and I start to think I was definitely overreacting to the way he seemed when I left his place the other day. I apologize to him again for throwing up on him and he tells me, again, that it’s ok. He says his shirt is clean now so no worries.

By Wednesday I’m excited to go with him to his appointment. I’m not sure why though, I’m just there to take pictures for my project that I had been neglecting a bit. I guess it’s just that…I missed him? We hadn’t really spent time together since the weekend so, I don’t know, I guess I missed him a little bit.

Over and over I replay what bits of Friday night I can remember just so I can relive our kiss. Our making out. The feeling of him against me. His soft lips between my teeth. His tongue tangled with mine.

“Aren’t you going to come in?” Jimin’s voice brings me back to reality where I’ve parked my car and he’s waiting for me to get out so he can have his physical therapy session.

“Right,” I say turning the car off in embarrassment. I’m glad my instincts were good enough to get us here in one piece, because I was so lost in my thoughts that I don’t even remember driving.

Jimin’s session is an hour long and involves both stretching and strengthening exercises as well as a bit of a massage and nerve stimulation. Watching him do anything is always breathtaking for some reason, but it’s always so clear how much effort he’s putting in. His determination is written all over his face and his pleads to do “one more set” shows how bad he wants to get back to dancing.

The photos I take are nothing short of amazing, and not because of the way I shot them. His emotions come through so clearly that it really makes my photos look great. He looks so strong and…dominant when he’s focused. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t turn me on a little bit.

At the end of his session I take him back home and he invites me in because he wants to see the pictures I got. Seeing them on my computer is even better than when I was looking at them on the small camera screen. They all look amazing and I can’t stop myself from dishing out compliments at each one, mostly about the way he looks.

After a few minutes I realized he’d gone silent. I was so focused on the pictures that I hadn’t noticed that he was half hiding behind his hands and his eyes are closed from the massive smile on his face.

“What?” I ask noticing his ears turning red.

“Nothing,” he says shyly.

“Are you ashamed of how good you look?”

“No,” he giggles curling into a ball in his seat. “But you’re just saying that.”

“Do you think I would just be saying that after watching you for 7 ye-all these weeks?”

“I guess not,” he laughs. “But, I still feel embarrassed by the compliments when I know I can do better.”

“Shut up,” I say with a chuckle.

Our banter continues as it normally would. He invites me to stay longer and watch the movie we wanted to watch. It gets late and he tells me I need to get some sleep so I’m able to wake up for class in the morning.

He wakes me in the morning to make sure I have time to go home and wash up before class. I take him with me because why not give him a ride if we’re going to the same place.

It’s like Friday night never happened, which is fine because I completely embarrassed myself, but at the same time it’s not fine. It’s not fine because ever since then all I can think about is kissing him again. I want us to talk about it so I can know if he’s interested in doing it again or if he thinks it was just a drunken mistake.

No matter how much time I spend with him and how many physical therapy appointments I’ve driven him to now, I still can’t find the courage to bring the subject up.

It’s now been two weeks since the benefit concert that raised more than enough money to cover Jimin’s tuition. His account has been cleared and yesterday he finally received a check for the remaining amount that was raised. It still amazes me that $4000 was raised when the goal was only $2000. He’s got an extra $2000 in his pocket now and he’s been mulling over what to do with it ever since he got the check.

As I was driving him to his Friday physical therapy session he got a phone call from his mom. It seems he wanted to give his parents the extra money, but his mom wasn’t having any of it. He couldn’t argue with her, but I could tell by the look on his face that he really wanted to.

I don’t want to pry because I know he holds his personal matters a bit close to the chest, especially when it comes to his family, but as I’m sitting on his couch going through my pictures I can tell that he was really bothered during his session. He usually has an intense look of determination on his face, but today he looked emotionless. His mind was elsewhere the entire time and his body seemed like it was just working on autopilot.

“Jimin?” I say softly.

“Yeah?” He says from the other end of the couch, looking up from his phone.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You just seem like something is bothering you. Is everything ok…at home?”

“Yeah.” He looks down at the floor and I can tell he’s not being honest right now.

“You’re not very convincing.”

“It’s nothing,” he sighs. “My mom told me to keep the money for myself and do what I want with it, but I want to give it to them to help out. She won’t let me.”

I know he’s wanted to pay his parents back for everything they’ve sacrificed to support his dancing, but I’ve rarely seen a parent accept money from their child no matter how bad things may be.

“Did she say why she won’t let you?” I ask.

“No, well kind of. She said that things are fine at home and I should just focus on myself and getting better.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. If everything is good at home then-“

“Everything’s not good at home,” he interrupts. “They don’t know that I know about my medical bills. They told my brother not to tell me anything but he did anyway. I know they were selling stuff off to make money before I got hurt. I know they’re behind on some bills and dodging collectors. I know more than they think, but no matter what they won’t let me help. Why would they choose to keep suffering when I’m trying to help?” He seems distraught burying his head in his hands.

“I’m sure they just don’t want you to worry. They want you to focus on school and your recovery, not the issues they’re having at home.” I know he desperately wants to help them and I wish there was something I could do for him.

“I worry more when they don’t tell me these things and won’t let me help.” He looks up at me with tears welling in his eyes. “I’m so tired of seeing them suffer like this. They’ve been suffering my whole life, I just want them to be happy.” He’s fighting his tears and it’s breaking my heart.

I set my laptop down on the coffee table and shift myself closer to him. I wrap my arm around him in a soft embrace and he buries his head in my chest. He heaves out a few sighs before I start to feel his tears seeping through my shirt.

Most people wouldn’t have to be told twice to spend money on themselves, yet here he is going through a mild crisis because his family won’t let him spend the money to help them. I’ve seen Jimin give so much of himself and never ask for anything in return from anyone. Seeing how much it pains him to not be able to offer help is just a testament to how big his heart is.

“Maybe,” I start to suggest once it seems his tears have stopped flowing. “You can help them in a way that they can’t refuse.”

“What do you mean?” He asks looking up at me with his bottom lip poking out.

I have to pause for a moment because good lord he’s so irresistibly precious when his eyes get big and he pouts like the cutest little puppy kitty.

“Well,” I try to think. “What if you helped them secretly? You could ask your brother if he can help you.”

“But how?”

“Maybe send him to get groceries. If he buys it without them knowing they won’t be able to say no if the food is already in their kitchen, you know?”

“Hmm.”

“If there’s anything they need you can order online and get it sent to them. They won’t even have to know it’s from you. Then if those things are taken care of they’ll be able to focus on the bills.”

After thinking about everything that just came flying out of my mouth, I start to worry that maybe I’m overstepping a bit. He’s usually quiet about his home and family life and maybe this is why. He probably doesn’t want other people prying too deep and knowing too much of the negative things in his life.

His long pause is nerve wracking but I definitely think I may have overstepped.

“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to get in the mid-“

My sentence is cut short and it took me longer than it should have to figure out why. Jimin’s tear stained lips are pressed into mine searing his warmth into my entire face. Am I hallucinating?

He pulls away and looks at me while biting his bottom lip.

“That’s a really good idea,” he says softly.

I can’t even speak. My eyes are nearly out of their sockets and my jaw is on the floor. He’s not drunk. I’m not drunk. What the fuck was that? And then he’s just going to carry on like that was a totally normal thing to do?

“I-umm-yeah,” I sputter like a faulty engine. “Jimin, I-what…why? I mean…what?”

“Sorry,” he says retreating into his invisible turtle shell.

“No you don’t have to be sorry. At all.” He must not realize how much I enjoy tasting him. “I like-I mean, we did it before, so it’s like…ok. For me at least. If it’s ok for you?” I have not had a single drink today, but what the hell am I saying? Was this the best my brain could come up with?

“Oh? Really?” He says still biting his lip. “You-you’re ok with kissing?”

“Jimin.” I don’t know what else to say to him, but talking isn’t what I want to do anyway. I lean in and capture his lips, this time taking him by surprise. I pull my lips away, but only far enough to still feel the heat from his breath brushing across them.

“Mina,” he whispers against my lips. “Are we making a mistake?”

“Why would you think that? Do you…not want to do this?” I don’t know where his question is coming from but it’s taking a lot for me to ignore the feeling of my heart falling to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he says averting his gaze but not moving away. “I don’t know how to sort my feelings out, but I’m scared. Of a lot.”

“Like what?”

“Like…what about Taehyung?”

“What about him?” I ask furrowing my brow. What does Taehyung have to do with anything?

“I just thought that maybe…you both are always…it’s just that-“

“Do you think me and Taehyung are together?” I almost want to laugh loudly in his face. What is he even on about?

“Well no, I don’t know.”

“We’re not together, Jimin. Tae and I are only friends and we’ve only ever been friends.”

“Oh, ok.”

“Does that take care of that fear? Because you can tell me all of your fears right now and I’ll sit here with you and work through each one.”

“Thanks,” he inches back a bit. “But my fears aren’t your burden.”

“So you’re just going to deal with them on your own? How is that going?”

He looks taken aback by the snark in my comment, and honestly I didn’t mean to make it sound that way, but I’m only trying to help him. One minute he’s flirting with me and the next he’s pushing me away, the emotional rollercoaster he sends me on is driving me crazy.

I’m even starting to think that I should have never let myself get this deep. I squashed my crush for him long ago and maybe I should have kept it that way. Because now I’ve got real feelings for him and his game of back and forth is making my chest tighten way more than it should.

“Look,” he says backing himself all the way to the back of the couch. “I appreciate you wanting to help, but-“

“But what?” I interrupt, still sounding a bit more irritated than I intend to. “Why won’t you let me help? We’ve known each other all this time, and we’ve spent even more time together lately. And we’ve kissed. Multiple times now. And you still won’t let me in. You still won’t open yourself even just a little bit so I can try to support you. It drives me crazy!”

He continues looking at me without saying anything else and for some reason that makes me even more upset. What kind of game is he trying to play with me? Is he just making excuses or something?

“If you’re not interested in me then just say that. It’s fine, but don’t keep me hanging on just to push me away whenever you feel like it! I’m not a fucking toy, Jimin!”

Before I can lay into him more out of frustration, Hoseok comes in with some takeout entirely unaware of what he just walked into.

“Hey, Mina!” He says shuffling to the kitchen to relieve himself of the food and whatever else he has from one of his many shopping trips. “Do you want some chicken? I was out and picked some up for dinner.”

“No thanks,” I say grabbing my things and standing up. “I was actually just about to leave. I’ll see you later.”

I don’t offer Jimin another glance and walk out without saying anything else. I haven’t even pulled out of my parking spot fully before tears start flowing from my eyes.

Why am I hurting so much right now?

#bts #bts au #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #park jimin #Jimin #Jimin au #jimin fluff #jimin fanfic #jimin fic #jimin x original character #jimin x oc #college au #university au #cross posted on ao3 #cross posted on wattpad #tw anxiety #tw depression #tw alcoholism #tw panic attack #friends to lovers

[littleheathen]

i haven't really talked about this on here or really anywhere but it's been bothering me and i haven't taken the time to like. think through it. so i'm public journaling

last year in march, my boyfriend and i moved into a new apartment, which was great, that isn't the problem. around the same time, i started noticing something was wrong with my back. it was hurting in the same place a lot, but i had sciatica as a teenager, so i thought it was just that

for months, i still worked at an in-person job (with only like...2 other people, thankfully), but i didn't have to walk all that much for it, so i just ignored it. it was ignorable, until i started really feeling it on my walks home. my back hurt so bad that i could barely move my legs and i would just heave and cry until i got home

that place ended up closing, so i got a remote job again, partially bc of covid and partially bc of my back. that was last august.

now, it's gotten so bad that i can't walk or stand for more than a few minutes...when i told my doctors, they both told me i needed to do physical therapy. which i did, several times, but bc i don't drive and i can't walk to the bus stop, i couldn't really keep going

all this is to say that i am coming to terms with my limited mobility. i had a cane from years ago that i got for free, and i took it with me to the drag show (masked of course) we went to a couple weeks ago. no one said anything, i'm sure people were looking, but it was fine. it helped

pride in my city is coming up soon, and in order to last for that long of an outing, i will absolutely have to use my rollator. it's a great rollator, i am so so so lucky i have a family that was willing and able to get me one, i don't want to sound ungrateful or like a 'woe is me' previously able-bodied person. it's just that a lot of things are happening to my body that i wasn't ready for and i'm coming to terms with all of them

we're going to a mini-con tomorrow, and i'm thinking of taking my rollator there, but it's scary to feel like i have to ask other people to make space for me. i don't think about that when i see other people using mobility devices, but idk, it's different bc it's me

it's kinda the same with my autism and bipolar. yes, i've had those all my life, but it wasn't until i was an adult that i became aware of them and it wasn't until like the last two years that i realized just how much they affect my life and how i interact with other people. i have such low tolerance for discomfort that i have trouble even keeping a job

my boyfriend and i rarely leave the apartment...literally like two or three times a month max. for all of the reasons above and of course covid. i struggle all the time with wanting my life to be this way and also feeling kind of pathetic bc...my life is this way. but idk, it's the most tolerable way to live, and i was a homebody long before i became the person i am now. i tried going out and having a big friend group and whatever but i hated it and i don't want to go back, even if i could

ummmm anyway that's my update. i think i might decorate my rollator so i feel more connected to it and want to show it off

ok. thanks luv u

#mine